


Bound to the Dragon Queen

by Kiah_Trickster



Category: Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-11-24
Updated: 2019-11-24
Packaged: 2021-02-17 22:43:52
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 45
Words: 103,589
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21550978
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Kiah_Trickster/pseuds/Kiah_Trickster
Summary: When the last dragon died magic left Westeros. But dragons have been reborn to the world and no one fully knows their powers; not even their mother. Nor the man who died defending her, but that does not diminish their magic or the sway they hold over life and death. For while the world has forgotten their ways, dragons have not forgotten the world they once knew. And that world must be restored, lest death come for all.
Relationships: Grey Worm/Missandei, Jorah Mormont/Daenerys Targaryen
Comments: 15
Kudos: 58





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Originally posted on fanfiction.net, I'm transferring my work over here, and I have started a sequel to this (yes, I have five stories on the go; I know better but....). No major plot changes, but as I post I have been rereading, combining some of the shorter chapters and making minor edits for spelling and grammar. 
> 
> SPOILERS for S8E3.  
> Disclaimer: I write for fun, no copyright infringement intended. It all belongs to the author of the books and the writers of the show.
> 
> Note, this story is based off of my imagination and some of the prophecies and warnings about magic (it will feature more later).

Her body was still oddly numb as she walked out to the pyres, many already burned but there was one who she would not allow the Northerners to touch. Ser Jorah Mormont had sacrificed his life for hers, had he stayed in the castle to fight he might still be alive, but she would almost certainly be dead.

His sword, his ability as a warrior and his loyalty had been the difference in her life so many times before. For years he had been by her side, even when she banished him, his heart never left her cause; he had risked her fury to return with a valuable asset.

Today her advisers shied away even as the Northerners who were so wary of her dipped their heads as she passed; did they acknowledge the difference her forces had made in this war? As she approached the last pyre Jon Snow fell in beside her, Daenerys glanced at him; there was so much left unsaid between them. But today she did not have the strength.

She did not have the strength for what she had to do, but she could not dishonor his memory by leaving it to another. No, Jorah Mormont had been born in the North and perhaps had longed for it at times, but he had made her his home and so she would send his mortal remains on; praying he had found peace beyond.

What was left of her forces stood assembled beyond the pyre and with them stood a small group of men, one carried a banner with a standing bear; those men had come from another pyre. And a part of her was touched that they still came to remember their former lord, had any of them known him then? Did they understand that whatever he had done in the past he had redeemed himself?

Overhead her dragons circled, their wings tipping as they dropped lower; Jorah's strength was part of the reason they were alive too. Who would have stolen them when they were just babies had a noble knight not by her side? When most of the people who followed her were former slaves and unable to fight there had been one man whose sword was always ready.

The only time she had lost them had been the time she sent him away, while he found her a ship their vulnerability had been used; certainly, others would have tried as well. She remembered how he had fashioned one of his shoulder straps into a perch for her children to use, Daenerys had loved that they could ride on her shoulder; it had been years before Drogon first carried her.

Drogon had folded himself around them on that battle field, her children knew what she had lost, she suspected they had a better sense of what she had lost than any other. She had chosen the blood sacrifice that allowed their birth, that brought dragons back to this world; but it was Jorah who took it to that pyre. And Jorah was the first kneel, to recognize what she was; to see the dragon within her.

The pyre was low, built in a Westrosi fashion and Jon Snow stepped close as she stared at the body of her faithful friend and advisor. She turned to glare at him, he had hardly known Jorah, but the man held out his hand. Daenerys swallowed her anger, it was a kind gesture and took his hand, climbing up to kneel beside Jorah's body.

They had washed him and fixed his armor, his eyes closed now; her heart had broken as she watched life leave those warm blue eyes. Tears welled in her eyes and as she tried to brush them back a few drops fell, striking his cheek and then his breast plate as she pulled back, she had already let many fall onto him. Embarrassed she reached out to wipe them away, though his cold skin broke her composure even more. Giving up she smoothed her palm over the armor, longing for him to stir; to call for her one more time.

"Here." Jon Snow offered her a piece of cloth, still standing behind her.

She shook her head, pressing her palm to his chest one last time; she knew she had to say goodbye. She had to lay him to rest, but she would never forget. His love and his will to see her on her throne had kept her alive more than once and his absence left a hole no one else would ever fill. Why had she not seen it before he lay dying in her arms?

Climbing down she started back to where a torch waited. But before she took ten steps Drogon screeched above and with Rhaegal landed directly in front of her; she heard the murmurs of concern from those just behind the dragons. But perhaps it was fitting, he had honored her as the Dragon Queen, and her dragons wanted to mourn him; perhaps in the only way they knew.

Jon Snow recognized what she intended and moved aside as Daenerys stood between her children, laying a hand on each before whispering the command. "Dracarys."

Twin branches of fire flew towards the pyre, quickly lighting the brush as she heard murmurs of how House Mormont was gone now, his cousin had also fallen in battle. She only closed her eyes, the North may have lost a proud house but she had lost so much more.

And then a hush fell, her dragons roared as if in triumph and launched themselves skywards; opening her eyes Daenerys gasped. There was movement in the flames, even before she could start forward she heard a scream; a shape struggling in the pyre.

Nearly tripping as she hurried forward she barely registered the cries of shock as she stepped into the pyre. His weight hit her hard as he struggled through the burning wood, Daenerys tried to pull him back, realizing the fire was hurting him and as they stumbled from the flames the uproar from those who had gathered increased.

"Lay him down. Get him in the snow." Jon and Ser Davos rushed forwards, helping her to ease him down.

Their cloaks covered him where what was left of his own was hurriedly pulled away; someone lay one over her own shoulders as well. But Daenerys could scarcely care how much her clothes were damaged, they rolled him in the snow as he struggled against them; eyes wide with confusion. But a mark on his chest caught her attention.

Where scars from greyscale had previously marred his skin only a few fresh scars remained, the ones that had killed him and another. It almost looked like a dragon in flight, red and sore but perfectly formed. She touched her fingers to it in awe, realizing the truth; her dragons' magic had done this.

...

He struggled against fabric and hands, heart pounding as he was jostled about. Jorah fought to get in a deep breath of cold air and choked on it, coughing as someone rolled him onto his side; slapping his back forcefully.

He tried to speak but his throat was thick and sore, though the pain was subsiding, and he tried to get hold of the arms that jerked him back and forth; the movement was making him feel worse. Flashes of memory hit him, the war and Drogon's screech of pain, the Khaleesi stranded on the battle field and the dead rising yet again. Pain, his chest had exploded in pain but there had been so many of them and no way to get her to safety; nothing to do but stand and fight. And then, then there was something, or maybe it was somewhere; but it was distant and faint. It had been comfortable, and familiar some how; certainly not the agony and filth of the battle field.

But he could not pull it back, as the world around him grew louder that memory faded more, people were screaming somewhere, and faces flashed above him; hands still pulled at him. Suddenly cold snow was dumped over him and Jorah snarled in shock, jerking a hand free to get it out of his face.

"Take it easy." A voice said low next to his ear. "I know this doesn't make any sense to you; trust me I know exactly how it feels."

He couldn't place that voice, it was familiar but as he turned to put a face to it hands closed around his cheeks and suddenly, he was looking up into a face he knew well. The Khaleesi had tear tracks running down her cheeks, but she held him tight. "Its okay, you are okay."

There was such conviction in her voice he nodded, he didn't exactly feel it and he did not like this, but for her he lay still. As soon as he did there were more voices around them and just as suddenly as she was there, she was gone; he was jerked up and heaved over someone's shoulder.

She was still around; he heard her gasp but could not shift enough to find her; he was jostled back and forth. Only recognizing they had entered the castle because it became mercifully warm and the light dimmed, before he was lowered onto something soft.

…

The huge wildling glanced back to where Jorah lay on the bed, the man may not have been gentle, but he had been efficient in moving him. Still he shook his head and looked at Jon Snow. "Never thought I'd see that twice; think you had it easier."

Daenerys went to sit on the edge of the bed, already Jorah was trying to move, the panic in his eyes had faded some but she knew he had to be confused. When she lay her palm on his chest he stilled, she swallowed hard; tears threatened to come again.

He had been gone, his skin stone cold and blue eyes empty, gently she touched the only scars that remained on him; the ones that had sent him to that pyre. What would have happened if Drogon had not insisted? Had her dragons' known their power?

She hadn't, she hadn't any idea that they could restore his life; she wouldn't have waited so long to do it if she had. The future had seemed overwhelming without him, it was the first time she had ever truly felt alone since meeting him. Jorah had always been there, always ready to defend her, listen to her or counsel her, he defied all odds to return to her and with so much left unknown she had feared relying on anyone else. But she didn't have to, he was here, and blue eyes were fixed on her, he seemed to be studying her as her fingers traced the scars on his chest, feeling his skin warm beneath her hand; her eyes drifted to the other mark. The dragon's mark.

"Leave us." She ordered, aware that two men still hovered a few feet away, she could see that he was struggling, he did not need an audience as she tried to think of a way to comfort him.

"Your Grace, he left this world at the end of a war and with how he came back…" Ser Davos paused, she had already realized Jorah was not the first person that man had seen return to life; the knight served the first.

Daenerys glared wanting to throw back such an insult, she was safe with him. He'd hung on until the end of the battle to protect her, but he had risen in flames, struggling and fighting to get free of his own funeral pyre. Did he understand that they had not known? She would not have put him there if she had known of a way to bring him back.

"I will not hurt her." She spun back as the man on the bed spoke, wincing as he pushed himself up to sit.

Her hand slid from his chest as Jorah flinched, hiking the blankets around his waist. Both men were silent, and she knew they saw the mark on him; they all watched as he noticed it. His fingers traced over it and then scrubbed his hand over his face and Daenerys reached out, tempted to touch it again.

"We'll get him something to eat." The men slipped away as they realized he was alert and aware, even if he didn't understand this.

Finally, they were alone she focused on Jorah, he would need to eat and wash; he smelled of the pyre. It still didn't seem quite real to her and she reached out to touch him again, ignoring the way he shifted slightly under her palm, it rested over the dragon's mark and she realized it was directly above his heart; she could feel it steadily beating under her hand.

When her fingers trailed lower, across the marks made by dragon glass her words were barely a whisper. "I'm so sorry."

"Don't be. All I ever wanted was to serve you." His palm pressed lightly to her cheek, lifting her face so she looked into his eyes; not at his scars. "I knew what the cost would be, I always have; you are worth it Khaleesi."

"I thought I lost you." He was sincere and tears threatened to overwhelm her again; it didn't diminish what he'd done.

In the moment that life had gone out of those eyes she had lost more than she could bear. He was her protector, advisor and confidant all rolled into a friend, once he had offered to be more and perhaps wished for it but never demanded it. There had never been another in her life who offered what he did and offered it honestly.

When they brought him some food and water to wash Daenerys left with Jon; Ser Davos stayed with him. Daenerys was hesitant to leave but Jon spoke gently to her. "Ser Davos can help him, he helped me; it will take some time for him to process what happened."

"Do you remember dying?" She asked quietly, wondering how much he would remember of those last moments. She hoped he knew that he had saved her, that he'd hung on long enough to do that, and that he knew she hadn't left him. She held him tight long after his eyes went blank, he hadn't been alone.

"Yes, I remember." Jon murmured, he almost sounded like he wished he could forget. "It changes things, at least it did for me."

"It cannot change him." Daenerys spun at the voice behind them and found Bran in his wheel chair. "But he can change you, and your choices may forever change the future."

"Bran this is not the time…." Jon started.

"No." Daenerys stopped him, it was Bran who saw that Jon was Rhaegar's son, and after watching him with her dragons she was beginning to believe it; but she could not think about the ramifications right now. If he had the sight as they claimed, he might know what had just happened. "What do you know?"

"Everything. I am the Three Eyed Raven." The boy looked back at her; his answer blunt and nearly rude. "I know why dragons left this world, why Valyria fell, and its last house followed. Dragons are fury and strength but as the power stirred in men embodied by them the old way was forgotten, they discarded the bond of the guardians and then the doom came."

She stared at him, the boy looked right back at her without wavering, if what he said was true why did he not look to his brother, her nephew? If Jon was truly Aegon, Rhaegar's son then he was a dragon just as she was, but perhaps he did not understand it; he had grown up in the North.

She had been told many stories of Valyria, of the place her ancestors came from; of a great civilization destroyed. A place where men and dragons ruled, and how the conquer brought that power west. But what was the old way? What were the guardians?


	2. Chapter 2

It was a strange mark, it almost looked like he'd been branded, for a moment he wondered if it was only a burn from some token they had put on him. Perhaps she had thought to send him to rest with some symbol of her house, but he'd quickly realized it was not a burn. He had no burns, and the scars he'd accumulated throughout his life were gone.

With the exception of the wounds to his chest which still ached and this strange mark, his skin was clear; while the flames had been agony, they had not burned his flesh. They brought him his clothes, though his armor and most comfortable things were gone now, but before he could dress Sam Tarly showed up; hovering uncomfortably by the door.

"Its true then." The young man's face was white as a sheet, but he came forward. "People are saying all kinds of things, but I swear you were dead; they brought you in on a cart. I swear I checked, I…."

"I was dead." That much he knew; he knew it somewhere inside himself and not just by the reactions of those who saw him. And by the young man's he suspected he knew who had prepared his body for the pyre; Sam had not missed a living man; he hadn't been one. "I don't know why I am not now."

"The Red Woman brought Jon back to life, there are other records of it too; from the east and Old Valyria. Your Queen must have some of those powers." Sam moved closer, eyes widening, and Jorah fought the urge to hitch his shirt closed; Sam knew how mangled his left side had been.

Almost no one else did, he had kept the knotted flesh covered and dodged any inquiries the Khaleesi had made; she was one of the few who knew why he had left. But it was not a sight she had needed to see, and he'd just been thankful there had been something that could be done; he didn't care how ugly the scar.

It wasn't now, the skin was smooth as though he'd never had greyscale; nor felt the sting of a sword though he had many times. There was a gap in his memory, something had faded to blackness as the flames licked at him and the world flooded his senses but nothing else was gone; he could remember his past. It didn't quite seem right, especially not given the war they had just fought; death was meant to be final.

Yet as sure as he sat here, he knew he was not dead now, had his eyes changed to that eerie blue he had little doubt someone would have already put dragon glass through him; for that matter the fire should have finished him not raised him. His mind was clear, well confused but his thoughts were his own, he was glad of the familiar faces and certainly did not want to harm any of them; the wights he'd seen had no capacity for independent thought. And he'd seen the wights fall, she would not have survived if they hadn't for his strength had been draining from his body with the blood. He knew the dead rested now and somehow, he was not among them.

But he did fear what she might have done to make this possible, he had seen her face in the last moments of his life. Jorah had tried to hold her, he had wanted to hold her once and soothe her pain; but he had not asked this of her. And he feared the cost of it.

…

She wanted to go back to Jorah, to remind herself of what had just happened; that it was true. But Jon guided her into a small room and shut the door when Bran maneuvered his chair through. The boy did not make her wait.

"He was born for you, his birth fated from the day the last dragon died as was yours." Bran's voice was calm and assured; she knew he believed that he spoke facts. "He went east for you and should have continued…"

"He went east into exile and Ser Jorah was born more than two decades before me." Irritation flared within her; she was starting to believe him; but then he began with that.

"A guardian must enter the world before the dragons' heart, to learn the ways of the world and its darkness before the dragon stretches its wings. There was a time when there were many of both, a time of light." The boy's eyes widened slightly, his face shifting as if he were recalling a pleasant memory. Daenerys could only stare; but the young man continued. "The east called to him long before he made the journey, he would not go by choice, and he was offered many, so fate forced him."

She was silent, Jorah's crime had forced him into exile but as she thought of the man who had so stubbornly defended her against all odds and returned against her wishes, like a moth drawn to the flame, she wondered. He had once told her how he longed for his home. She could believe that he would not leave it freely; but he had come to her by choice. He had offered to enter her service by his own free will; fate may have allowed it, but Jorah had chosen it.

"The dragons of the ages celebrated his birth, just as they did yours for you are their hope to restore the balance. Powerful magic, waiting millennia to be returned to glory and restore this world lives in those who have returned to dust and those trapped in shells turned to stone." Bran's eyes fixed on her sadness in his voice. "But dragons' men always believe they alone can harness the power of their world, even if the creatures know better."

"And what of Jon?" Her eyes narrowed slightly it was Bran who claimed Jon was her brother's son; he was born of the dragon too.

"Men have always loved to believe in the power of blood, he is of valyrian blood and forever bonded to the dragons; just as thousands are and millions have been. But the dragons' heart does not beat within him, it cannot be stirred unless the creatures themselves have chosen. And the dragons' heart fell dark centuries ago, when the darkness came." Bran looked straight at her, but when she glanced to Jon, she found his eyes on her too.

If he was Rhaegar's son, why was he not the dragon's heart? What was the dragon's heart? She knew dragons had always been bonded to the great houses of Old Valyria, and Valyrians had prided themselves on keeping their blood pure and the connection to the dragons strong. Did the boy mean blood was not the true connection?

" I need to speak to Ser Jorah." She said quietly but what she really needed was space to think.

"Remember your darkest days and who was not there." Bran murmured as she moved towards the door. "Remember that the only thing that can change your fate is the choices you make. Your task was sealed for you before your father or brother died; long before they were ever born."

Daenerys left them, moving quickly through the halls; distracted by her thoughts. What did he mean, sealed for her? Had Robert Baratheon not overthrown her father her life would have been very different; did Bran believe her purpose would be the same? It couldn't be, the throne would rightfully be her brother's and she would likely have been married to one of the great houses of Westeros.

Returning to Jorah's chamber she slipped in and shut the door, taking a moment to pause and push it all back; he did not need it on his mind yet. Though already he looked better.

He was sitting on the edge of the bed and as he saw her, he started to rise; Daenerys quickly crossed to stop him. Putting a hand on his arm to push him back down as she sat beside him. "Just rest now."

He had dressed and the mark on his chest was covered, but she knew where it was and lay her hand over it; she would never forget what it looked like. His eyes closed and she frowned, was he still in pain?

"Was it blood magic?" His voice was low, and she realized he was afraid of her answer.

"No." She murmured; she had no intention of attempting that ever again. "No, I thought you were gone. And when Drogon landed I thought it was right to let them send you on; you helped me bring them into this world and raise them. It seemed right that they light your pyre."

"It would have been right; how ever you wanted it would have been." He said gently, she saw his slight sigh of relief; he remembered the price of blood magic and he hadn't wanted a part of it then. But he had, to defend her he had done what was needed and what she asked of him; letting no harm come to her.

"It was not blood magic; I believe it was theirs. Drogon's and Rhaegal's." She let her hand rise to his cheek, his eyes closed again for a moment and Daenerys watched curiously. He seemed almost soothed by her touch and wondering why she reached for the fastenings of his shirt; pulling it aside to reveal the flying dragon, still a deep red against his skin.

"It is not your sigil. What is it?" Jorah asked, he looked at her; expecting her to know.

She didn't, and he was right it was very different from the three headed dragon of her house. A single dragon, stretched in flight above his heart as though etched in perfect detail; nose pointing to the right.

"I don't know, I don't know how it happened." But she frowned, pulling the shirt open more. "Are you in pain?"

"It is getting better." He murmured, his eyes on her, though he fidgeted as she pulled the left side of his shirt open more.

The angry wounds where weapons had pierced him had shrunk. She lay her palm against his ribs, feeling each breath he took and watching; after a moment her hand shifted; covering one of the wounds.

"I lost you." She whispered, letting relief wash over her as she looked at him. "I didn't know what I was going to do."

"Live." Jorah said firmly; blue eyes fixed on her. "No matter what happens to me Khaleesi I always hope that you live, safe and healthy; and someday that you rule. I only hope that I have served you well and honored your trust."

"Ser Jorah you have saved my life more times than I can count, always know that you have served me well; you have for many years." He could not doubt that; she would not let him. She had not right to ask him to keep serving her, he'd already given his life doing that; but there was no one she trusted more. "But I need you by my side; more now than ever before."

"I will always serve you." He promised without hesitation.

Daenerys swallowed hard, was this what Bran meant? Something within him drove his loyalty, more than pure stubbornness and devotion. She didn't know the answer, but as she slid her hand from his side, she nearly gasped, the wounds on his chest were faint white lines now. Only the dragon's mark remained, and something told her that wasn't going anywhere; not that she knew where it had come from.

But she did not care, if it meant that he was here than he would wear it for the rest of his days. Because it had put life back into his body, letting him breath and move; even now she felt strong muscles shift beneath her hand. She didn't have words for what that meant to her now, no more than she could tell him everything she had felt when his eyes went blank.

So, she wrapped her arms around him, holding him as tight as she could. At first, he only leaned in a little, letting her embrace him as he had when he returned to her on Dragonstone, but after a moment his arms slid around her, and his cheek pressed against her hair; she felt his sigh. There was so much she did not know right now, but it would all wait, if only because she did not have to face it alone. She needed him more than ever. 


	3. Chapter 3

Daenerys struggled to sleep that first night and the one that followed, her mind twisting with Bran's words and her own emotions. She wanted to dismiss it, but when she closed her eyes his words flashed back as memories of her life.

Viserys used to tell her of their family, of how their brother died in battle; of their father's murder. And the horrific ways in which their nieces and nephews had been murdered as small children because Robert Baratheon wanted every Targaryen dead. If what Jon had told her was true, then even the crime that started that rebellion was a lie; Rhaegar had not stolen or raped anyone.

But that rebellion had changed the world she had known, would her family have been loving? What would Rhaegar have made of his baby sister? She would not have been destined for the throne; the line would have passed through Rhaegar to his sons.

Instead she had grown up in the Free Cities, moved from place to place to stay alive; subject to her brother's temper. It was his temper that Viserys referred to as the dragon within him, woken with little warning and always cruel; to him that was what a dragon was. Power and fury were the words Bran Stark had used; by the stories of her family he was not wrong.

But she had raised her dragons from babies that folded their wings and tucked themselves against her, even now, many times her size they dipped their heads to be stroked. They felt pain when hurt, they liked her attention and squabbled for it; Drogon had folded himself around her to mourn when Jorah fell on that battle field.

And when Jorah struggled from the flames her dragons had screeched in delight and triumph as they launched to the sky, knowing what they had done before she did. They were not monsters, and they were more than weapons for war; but she knew that because she had raised them.

Daenerys took a few moments with her children after another difficult night, they were huge and frightful to so many; and yet she knew them. Drogon nudged her hand as she stood between her sons; sensing that her attention was not on him. Smiling a little she rubbed his snout and reached out to Rhaegal as well.

Looking at her children she tried to imagine the dragons of centuries past, in the times of Old Valyria when there were many. When they built a civilization and conquered lands for Kings, was that truly their purpose? Was there more to the bond between men and the dragons than what she had been told? Had that truly been the great era of dragons?

…

Winterfell was resilient, the North would not stay down and lick their wounds; survivors rallied. He got many strange looks and people shied away from him as he walked through the keep but Jorah ignored it. Instead he watched and listened, the Northerners were not defeated, though they had lost many; no, they were angry.

They were angry that the South had left them to fight this war when the dead came for them all, that the South had broken their oath and word of the Golden Company's arrival in Westeros had spread. This was the momentum that the Khaleesi needed to use, this was her best chance to rally the North with her in the war to the South; and it would take all of their combined strength to do it.

The Dothraki were gone, the Unsullied and the Northerners had suffered heavy losses, any battle they would go into would be against the odds; but a war was coming. Cersei Lannister had not hired the Golden Company for nothing and if they were not faced the sell swords would likely end up at the gates of Winterfell. Their best chance was together, Unsullied, Northerner and dragon.

But his Khaleesi was distracted, she was avoiding Tyrion and Varys; though the latter was also avoiding him. It seemed the spider did not approve of the fact he was walking again, but he wasn't taking that personally; the man was not alone. If anyone wanted to change that he was welcome to take up a sword, the one Jorah had now was not quite balanced as he liked, but he could swing it well enough; that he had checked.

He lived and so he would continue as he had been, serving his Queen; whether anyone else liked that fact or not didn't much matter. Jorah had been raised in the North, he knew the stories of magic these people had grown up hearing, he had heard some of the stories of magic that had appeared in the recent years; there was a reason for it all.

Jorah paused as he crossed the courtyard, he had grown used to being watched since arriving in Winterfell, since the events of the past day he had felt it increase; but he felt a different gaze on him now. And shifted to find the source, scanning the yard where people worked until his eyes rested on the Stark boy; he wove his away across the yard.

"They've called you Jorah the Andal for years, but you aren't; you are a son of the first men. Your ancestors came to this land to forget, to build new lives as far from their past as they could go." Bran Stark did not offer any other greeting and Jorah frowned.

In the East the people knew of the Andal invasion, they did not know the North had resisted and there the blood of the first men had been handed down through the generations. He hadn't particularly cared, for a time he had just been glad not to hear his house name and have to think of the shame he had brought upon them.

"House Mormont descended from the first men." So had the Starks, nearly all the Northern houses had.

"You are not a descendant, you are a son. The first born for many generations, and the last if the long night comes. You were not raised because she wished it, you were raised because if you remained in the grave the heart will fall. The dragons will not give up so easily." Bran Stark stared at him without wavering and Jorah frowned, the boy had magic of his own; some sort of sight.

"Your sister destroyed the night king." That was why the wights fell and the white walkers shattered never to rise again; winter will come to and end.

"Do you believe that will stop the long night? It is coming and has been for centuries. Yes, the white walkers knew it before we did, they brought the winter storms, and knew their best chance was as night gathered; but they alone do not bring the night. Night has come before, and before it the doom." Bran spoke quietly and Jorah barely caught his last words. "Night takes many forms, but we have lived in darkness for so long; we forget the darkest hours come before the dawn."

Unnerved Jorah stared at the boy, it seemed like Bran Stark looked through him rather than at him; as though he were somewhere far away. If the boy's words were true, and if the past was any indication then there was a good chance, he needed to speak with the Khaleesi; and Jon Snow.


	4. Chapter 4

She had been about to broach a difficult subject with Jon Snow, when Jorah appeared. She knew by the look on his face that something was wrong.

"I've just spoken with Bran; your brother has…" Jorah glanced to Jon, his jaw set and eyes grim.

"We can discuss this later." She should have discussed what Bran said earlier; he should have heard it from her.

"Khaleesi, I disagree; he makes disturbing suggestions that would impact everyone." Jorah's eyes roamed between her and Jon; Daenerys swallowed hard. Perhaps he had told Jorah something else.

She glanced to Jon Snow and they turned back to find a private room, Jorah could but trusted; but this conversation could go no further. It was impossible to fathom what Bran knew, or what he could see but somehow the boy wanted her to scramble together some puzzle that she didn't even understand. He'd tied all of them up in it, telling her of dragons and guardians, Jon of his parentage and she didn't even know what Jorah had been told.

It was a game and not an entertaining one, she had worked long and hard to get to this point; she was on the road to reclaiming her family's legacy and Bran Stark claimed it was never meant to be hers at all. Daenerys had worked hard to convince men to believe in her, asking them to leave their homes and face their fears to follow her. Men had given their lives fighting for her, fighting to put her on the iron throne; thousands of them fighting a war because she promised her support to the North. And the boy said the throne was never meant to be hers.

"I am Rhaegar's son, my mother was Lyanna Stark and she made my uncle swear to protect me." Jon Snow murmured, glancing at her for a moment. "But I have sworn to Daenerys, she is my Queen; I didn't know of my parents until we returned from King's Landing."

Jorah's jaw twitched and he said nothing, blue eyes locked onto her and in that moment Daenerys realized they had just told him something he didn't know. Finally, he nodded, she saw him swallow slightly and his gaze shifted to the floor.

"Bran told me that he believes the long night is still a threat, perhaps the dead are not but if the legends are true than there are hard times to come." Jorah spoke softly, he said nothing about Jon's revelation. "If he is right there may be other threats to contend with; things we've only heard of in legends."

What did he think of her now? She tried to focus as Jon questioned Jorah on what exactly Bran had said, but her mind was drifting. Jorah had served her all these years believing she should rule; she should rule because she would care for her people and do what was right. In truth Daenerys knew that had mattered to him, but did matter more than the strength of her claim?

What was she if she took that throne knowing Jon lived? That he was truly Aegon Targaryen, her brother's last son; the true heir to the throne. Was it not worse if she took it from her own blood? And what of Bran's words on her own destiny? If it was sealed for her before her birth, before even her father's than how could it be the throne? She had two brothers; her brother once had several sons; one of them was a man now.

The thoughts had been twisting around inside of her for a day now, in truth Jon's parentage had been bothering her since he told her of it. And she had seen how men gravitated to him, how he cared for his people above all; above his own titles. Was that not a man who would do what was right? Was it not more likely that he would be accepted by the people?

"I am going to get Bran." Jon told them, moving for the door.

He left her to her thoughts, only one thing kept playing through her head, the dragon's heart holding powerful magic, and Bran claimed there was only one; the first in centuries. She remembered the Warlocks of Qarth, and their attempts to steal her children when they were only babies; claiming they made their magic stronger. She knew the height of magic had been in the days of Old Valyria, before the doom. Were the dragons the source of such great magic?

The dragon eggs had come into her life at a time when the throne was fading, she had become a Khaleesi; bound to a horse lord for life. Viserys was the one who would take the throne, he was the dragon; and yet the dragon eggs had been given to her. A gift meant as decorations, but while they had been fascinating, beautiful and mysterious; she had known they weren't stone long before she put them in the fire. Had they been calling to her then?

She had not been the first to try to return dragons to this world, she knew the stories of her own ancestors who had tried and failed, there would be others around the world; yet she had been able to. But what if the dragons were her true purpose, the first purpose she had been given and one not based upon the house or country she was born into. That thought twisted inside of her, warring with what she had spent years working for.

Left alone with Jorah and Daenerys swallowed hard; the choice before her was impossible; but she could not make it without knowing where he would stand. "Will you still follow me?"

Her heart pounded as his face shifted, and she was almost relieved to see him frown as if insulted by her question. "Always Khaleesi."

"Even if I were to leave Westeros?" She took a steadying breath; she didn't know what would be out there for her; she didn't even know if she would do it. But it was something she must consider now. "My brother's son is alive, if I claim his throne, I am the same as every king who has ruled these kingdoms in my lifetime. But I am not the same as them."

"Khaleesi, I will follow you." He reached out and took her hand, dipping his head to kiss her knuckles. "Wherever you go."

Daenerys felt relief wash over her, and she slipped her hand from his grasp; laying it on his chest. He still shifted but did not step out of her reach, she would offer him that choice over and over again, she would never chain him to her. She could not control fate but he would choose her freely, and Bran Stark would tell her what his riddles meant.

…

Jorah could admit he was rattled by Jon Snow's admission but clearly the Khaleesi had already known and he wondered if that was not what had been troubling her. Perhaps that was why she had not been calling for them to rally and march, even before she admitted that Jon had the better claim, he knew she would recognize it.

Not only because it scattered her plans and her work to the wind, but because it meant a member of her family lived. Daenerys Targaryen scarcely knew what the word family meant; her brother had only seen her as a pawn to use; at least until the moment his games caught up to him. She had no memory of her parents or other siblings, only the stories others told her.

She had a nephew, he suspected it had been as much a shock to them as it was to him, but that would matter to her. Though that meant Jon, or Aegon, stood before her in the succession and he knew how much of a blow that must have been; that it had come just before a war must have made it harder for her.

As the door opened, he took a step back, letting her hand drop as he moved to stand behind her; Bran's eyes slid over them as he entered. The door was firmly shut but before they could speak the boy did.

"Do you know your darkest days?" Bran asked, eyes fixed on the Queen; ignoring everyone else in the room.

"There have been many difficult days in my life." The Khaleesi answered quietly, not shrinking from the boy's gaze; her voice warned Jorah. He'd heard that hard tone before and knew her temper was rising; she would not be patient for long if she thought the boy was toying with her.

"Do you remember the days in which you banished your guardian and locked the dragons who called you to life below the ground? Do you remember the rebellion that rose in your city? As rose in your soul as well. But you were given a gift, one far greater than any who went before you." Bran did not move closer but Jorah frowned, she glanced back at him with pain in her eyes.

Was Bran speaking of him? Jorah bristled; she had banished him with good cause; he knew how much his betrayal had hurt her. It was a sign of her mercy that she forgave him and took him back into her service; that was her gift to him.

"Your guardian returned to you and never broke faith. When guardians of the past turned their backs and left the dragons to their ways yours did not. Yet you let him fight for his life as sport twice over, you betrayed him as generations of dragons had before." Bran's voice rose and Jon- Aegon shifted to look at them; the man was looking at Daenerys with shock in his face.

But the Queen dipped her head as though acknowledging it, Jorah nearly snarled. "It was not that simple."

"He defends you now, knowing you would have watched him die. But then, you have watched him die." Bran continued, he and Jon both took a step forward; this was uncalled for. "With a spear he saved your life and bought you another chance. With an offered hand he restored you. And your dragon came, for the heart and the guardian called as one."

The room was silent and she turned, her gaze locked on him as he frowned; was Bran calling him her guardian? Clearly, he had missed something in the time he had been gone, but Jorah wasn't clear on exactly what that was.

"You, Daenerys Stormborn hold the power of the ages, yet your heart lays set upon a spit of land in the Western corner of the world. Take the throne you crave and follow every dragon before you who believed only in power and blood, watch your children fade into history again as the darkness comes; but know the doom spares none." Bran's voice rang through the room as though he read a royal decree, though he did not speak any louder than before. "Or be the heart of the dragon, and heed their call, for they have called since the moment you were born. The choice is yours."

And having finished speaking the young man maneuvered his chair around and stared at the door; after a long moment his brother opened it for him. Jorah stood silently, her gaze never left his face and he struggled to think of something to say; something to help her.

There was a small part of him that wanted to go after that boy and wring his neck; his words were essentially treason. And Jorah knew beneath the strong front she put up she felt each of those statements; and the accusations that had been uncalled for. Yet the conviction behind them gave him pause, the details of their shared past that a boy of the North couldn't possibly know anything about; he couldn't be sure what it meant.


	5. Chapter 5

When the Khaleesi followed Bran out Jorah gave in to the desire to go after the boy. He found him before the heart tree, chair turned so he could look upon the tree's face. The boy turned to him as he approached.

"You have a difficult task set before you. No other guardian has succeeded, but none offered their dragon another chance; none served the true heart." Bran spoke quietly. "The heart of the dragon is always torn between power and truth, the right choice may be hard, as is your task."

"Why?" He asked, he did not trust the boy, but he did believe the young man had the sight and if it was the only way to get answers then he would listen. The boy would not upset the Queen again.

"You've long believed she could change the world, though it is not only the kingdoms you know that she holds sway in. As a people we fear the light, we fear what we have not known and crave what we do not have. Many will try to stop her, or kill her, even from within forces will seek to destroy; the dragons chose you to stand for her and you have proven yourself a fearsome warrior." Bran looked at him, his gaze unflinching and Jorah frowned as his chest ached; as though the brand above his heart was heating up. "But you must also learn the old way, you will have to help her walk it."

"What is the old way?" He was becoming familiar with the boy's terms, he didn't know exactly what they meant but he'd figured out a bit, he did not struggle to believe the Khaleesi held the dragons' hearts; he had seen her return them to this world. He assumed the bond between them was special; perhaps that was why she was called their heart.

"Before fire and blood, or power and war the dragons were within this world; the source of all magic fading through the ages. But as the centuries passed and their magic was perverted, their strength died, turning to darkness as the world suffered and came to stand upon black magic; on blood magic." Bran's eyes met his and he knew Bran had picked his words; he'd seen blood magic. "The old way binds men and dragons, the heart of the dragons holds their strength at the center of the world as the guardian binds them to humanity and defends their cause; meant to harness the power of this world and put it right. She is the heart, but you wear the mark of the guardian, you are the first who was not marked by man. The dragons lay their mark upon you as proof of their magic, the guardians of past made it themselves out of pride."

Jorah was silent, a small part of him wondered if this was an attempt to put another on the throne. If it was suggested by anyone else, he might believe it was a story meant to send the Queen away chasing a fairy tale; it was well known how much she loved her children. Yet the boy knew too much of their past, he spoke with too much conviction, and with Bran's last words the mark upon his chest relaxed, and the tension that had been bothering him eased.

"There will be many things you do not know, you will find some answers inside yourself, and others are within her. Stand together and you will not be broken, for the dragons of the ages will fight for you; they will fight for their last hope of restoring this world." The boy looked past him and paused.

…

Daenerys left Jon and Jorah, retreating to her chamber as her emotions swirled. The look on Jon's face had made her feel ill, he had expected her to deny it, but Bran was not wrong. Jorah could have died in that arena and she would have watched.

Jorah could have let that assassin reach her while her guards were watching the ring. There had been a split second where she had thought that weapon was meant for her, but even after she watched him fight, after she banished him twice, he had protected her. As the riot broke out, he had tried to get her to safety, and then he'd fought for her. Was that why Drogon returned?

She had thought her own fear called to him, but she had tried to call her son home many times before that. Of the three, Drogon had always been the strongest, in strength and spirit; he had fled the captivity she meant to impose. Yet he had joined the fight to protect her Daenerys thought sadly.

Those days marked another choice that she regretted; her sons had become weapons. Caged and chained she had used them to inspire fear and prove her power to the noble families of that city; she could almost hear the boys voice. Just like the dragons of the past.

Daenerys lifted her chin, she was not a dragon of the past, and she was not a leader of the past either. Once, someone had given her good advice, and she intended to heed it, the easy way was rarely the right way.

Leaning over her table something gave her pause, she had looked at the map spread there countless times before, the battle map may lay in the war council but she kept her own; learning the names of these lands and looking at where they sat. Westeros and Essos dominated the scroll but Valyria was in the South, the islands just off the coast of Essos and yet the ruined city lay nearly at the midline of her map. Straightening she fastened her coat and went to find Jorah, there was something she needed to see for herself and she wanted him by her side.

The afternoon was waning but the dragons could cover ground like no other creature; they had the time. As she wove through the grove of trees, she paused; it did not reassure her to see Jorah with Bran. But the young man paused as she approached.

"Khaleesi, are you alright?" Jorah turned, stepping aside so she could join them.

"I am fine, I would speak with you though." She eyed Bran, Jorah was tense and she could see the concern in his face, but Bran had focused on her; she'd had just about enough of his puzzles. "Do you have any more insight for me today?"

"Do not waste your guardian upon a war that is not yours to fight. His life was the price of the last, without him your children would never have known this world and if he perishes fighting the wars of man they never will." Bran replied, Daenerys ignored the jolt that went through her; the boy had seen her past and she knew he was trying to drive her towards something; she was beginning to get an idea of what that was.

"You are not wrong." She told him coolly, he would not get a rise out of her now.

As they left Jorah fell in a pace behind her and Daenerys led him beyond the gate to the area where her children rested. Drogon immediately turned to her, eager to be stroked and she pet his snout though Jorah hung back.

"I want you to come with me." She told him as her son dipped his head and lowered the tip of his wing for her to step onto; easily climbing onto his back.

Jorah had ridden with her once before, but it had been under very different circumstances and as he approached Drogon turned sharply. Her son's huge snout thrust at him and Daenerys watched as he sniffed carefully, Jorah stood perfectly still for the dragon's inspection; did Drogon sense the mark somehow?

After a moment he dipped his head and let Jorah pass, her knight might be reasonably comfortable around the dragons but he was not graceful in mounting one. He shifted to find a spot behind her and Daenerys eased her hips back, gesturing for him to lean over her to grip the scaled spikes at her sides; she reached up to hold the spikes between Drogon's shoulders.

Her son knew her commands, when she leaned onto one, he was to turn that way; she left the rest to him and as she did Drogon started forward. Taking a few steps with wing tipped down before launching himself into the winds, immediately she noticed an advantage to flying with Jorah; his solid frame was warm and sheltered her from the strong Northern wind.

It was a beautiful day to fly and Rhaegal came with them, soaring close to his brother as they headed West. Drogon swooped down in places, giving them wonderful views of the landscape covered in snow. She had seen some of the North, but never the West coast and as they approached, she could smell the salt in the air.

They soared out over the sea and Daenerys urged Drogon to turn North as her eyes roamed over the water below them. In one direction there was solid land, but in the other only water, as far as the eye could see. From here it looked as though they were on the edge of the world.

As an island came into view ahead of them, she felt Jorah shift behind her and urged Drogon to dip; she wanted to see Bear Island for herself. Bear Island had sent its fighting men to Winterfell but being surrounded by water the Mormonts had left their women and children at home; away from the war. A few tiny fishing boats dotted the coast and as Drogon circled she eyed the keep that rose between the tall trees; she could imagine Jorah had once been very happy here.

As her son coasted on the wind Daenerys eyed a ridge on the mainland that overlooked the island and urged Drogon to head for it. When they landed, she sat up, leaning back against Jorah's chest, she tried to imagine what he life there had been like.

"Thank you." The man whispered quietly, she reached back to find his hand; squeezing it tightly for a moment.

"I wanted you to see it again, and I wanted to see it for myself." He had chosen her over his home more than once, she had once thought she would be able to give it back to him; but now that had changed. She had needed to make sure he saw it again, with his cousin gone and her path uncertain she didn't know how long it would belong to the Mormonts.

For a few moments she was quiet, Drogon rested quietly beneath them but Rhaegal soared on the wind and as he dipped near the rocky coast her eyes picked up movement at the edge of the trees. Daenerys sat perfectly still as a huge bear padded across the rocks, ignoring the dragon on the wind above; it was a moment she wanted to etch into her memory.


	6. Chapter 6

As darkness descended around her Daenerys searched the empty sky, desperate for any sight her children; but she knew they were gone. She cradled Jorah's lifeless body in her arms, his chest split open, as blue eyes stared up at her blindly. Looking around them her despair became overwhelming; they were not on a battlefield, but a city street littered with the corpses of women and children as the darkness began to choke her too.

A sob tore from her throat and as she tried to pull him tighter, she woke, heart pounding. Uneasily she rose and crossed to the window; that dream had been as vivid as it was disturbing, and it kept returning. Pacing the room Daenerys tried to banish the images from her mind, had that been what it was like when the doom swept Old Valyria away?

Given that it was nearly dawn she dressed and checked that she was at least presentable before slipping out. She needed to clear her head before the day began, the decisions she had made were difficult for many reasons and she needed her wits about her today; regardless of how much rest she had.

Candlelight glowed from the doorway to the council chamber and she found Jon pouring over a map. Quietly she joined him, a few days ago this man and this map had been her focus; all a part of the plan to meet her goal. But so much had changed.

The pull was still there, but it was fading, or shifting as she began to feel a different call upon her life and recognized a different role in the west. Daenerys had long believed herself to be the last of her family, and responsible for rebuilding their dynasty.

It was not easy to let that go, but looking at Jon left her feeling confused, partially because of what had happened before they knew the truth and because he was Rhaegar's son. Was it wrong to hope some of the good in that man came from her brother?

She liked to think that Rhaegar had been different than Viserys, gentler and kinder, the stories Ser Barristan told had made her hopeful. Jon had been raised by good people; a man who had a reputation of great honor had smudged his to protect her nephew, Jon had been a part of a family. But maybe a little came from Rhaegar, his claim certainly did, though she knew it took more than a claim to the throne to make a good ruler; but he also cared for his people above all.

"Without your forces we can't take the South, I don't know that we could even hold the North." Jon murmured. "The Northern Lords will help you take that throne, but they will want some assurances."

"No." She whispered, the images from her dream flashing through her mind. "I cannot take what is not mine, and Bran is right; it is not just my own life at risk if I ignore the call."

"If we do not remove Cersei Lannister from that throne, she will take all our lives, march those sell swords North and take these lands. The lands thousands of men died to reclaim, died to defend; many of your own in the Great War." Jon looked at her and she saw a hint of frustration in his eyes; that was good, he would spend lots of time frustrated in the future. "I don't care about the title; I don't care about claims; I swore to you."

And his word was his bond, that would serve him well too, he needed to keep his promises. He needed to learn to juggle the needs and wants of the kingdoms and their people, the rich and the poor on a large scale and fast. She had time in Mereen to learn to rule, to learn the political game in a city; Jon must learn it here and now.

"You swore to me as a stranger, as King of the North; we both believed you swore to your rightful Queen. Neither of us knew who you are." Daenerys faced him, he was her blood and he had the strength of the Targaryen house within him. "What was taken from me was taken from you ten-fold because you spent years without knowing what had been stolen; you never knew your family or your birthright. As long as you live, I will not sit on that throne, and I cannot; my life is called to something else; that is why you were born. That is why your identity was revealed."

Jon had grown up in a great house without a name, treated well and with privilege; but never owning it. But he had a name and an inheritance; a great one. He was the last male Targaryen; he was the way for her to fulfill the call placed upon her life and restore her family's honor; there was a way she could do both. But this man needed to lay down the name Jon Snow and take up the name his mother gave him; take the good within himself and give it back.

Her life was called to the dragons, her sons, those of ages past and perhaps those who had yet to be. She did not know what that meant but she believed she knew what would happen if she betrayed that call, her dreams warned of the punishment. They would make her watch it all, watch the doom fall, those she cared for and the innocents who had done nothing to deserve such a fate.

It would be a punishment to fit the crime, the dragons longed for life, for their place in the world restored and had for centuries. She remembered how the eggs had stirred near the heat as she realized they were not stone; her sons begging for their lives to begin. They had called for years and she had not known, they had raised the man they placed in her life and put her in a place to learn of her nephew and of the past; if ignored she knew they would seek revenge.

"I need your word." She knew how Jon valued the promises he made. "When the war is over the Unsullied who wish to retire will, and you will give them homes and land to call their own. To those who wish to return to the East you will give them the ships to do so, and those who wish to continue serving you will have places in your military. Treat them with the same respect you will give any other veteran; any Northman."

"They will not fight for mem they are your men." Jon murmured, his eyes widened with her words.

"I will ask them to, and I believe many will. But I will have your word, I freed them, and they have fought for me, but we cannot even imagine the things that have been done to them; what they've had to do to survive. They will never be chained again." Daenerys stared at him; he had not seen what she had but he would understand the duty she felt to them; he would bear it too.

When the dust settled there would be places for her men, wherever they chose. Already areas on the map were marked where the houses that had held them were gone. She knew there were families in the North which had supported Jon's cause and would be rewarded; but she knew of lands far in the South which might not appeal to the Northerners.

"You have it." Jon promised; his gaze implored her. "Are you truly leaving all of it behind?"

"Ser Jorah is coming with me, as are my children. I must find my way, and you must find yours; you must own these kingdoms. Westeros is your birthright and you are meant to be her King; you will be good for the people." Daenerys pressed her palm to his cheek, he had not grown up hearing of the Iron Throne, or what had been done to his family and maybe that was good.

It did not make it easier to let it go herself. She had poured years into retaking that throne, into learning to be a Queen and how to rule. Now she didn't know what she would be, but she would go knowing she was not alone in this world, a Targaryen would once again sit on the Iron Throne and this one would be just.

…

Jorah found her in the field with the dragons, Drogon rested his snout on the ground and Daenerys leaned against the creature's cheek; stroking him gently. Rhaegal rested nearby and both dragons looked as content as he had ever seen them, something inside him clicked; she had decided.

He cleared his throat as he approached, the dragons had seen him coming but he did not want to startle her; she looked as though she was soaking in their strength. When she turned to him there was sadness in her eyes as she spoke.

"I have offered my men and my ships to Jon; with them he will claim the Iron Throne." Daenerys told him quietly, her palm resting on Drogon's snout. "I must answer the dragons."

"Do you want to go to Old Valyria Khaleesi?" He asked, he had known that her decision was made by the look on her face; in truth he had known a few days ago.

He suspected he knew where she would want to go, and Jorah certainly knew the risks of the ruined city. But Valyria was where the dragons had thrived for thousands of years, and he knew Drogon had explored it at one time. Somewhere among the ruins they might learn something that would tell them why the great civilization fell; and what happened to the dragons.

It was not easy, she was turning away from something she had long worked for, but he knew there was truth to what she felt called to; he wore the proof of it. Yet she did not do things part way, she had thrown her life into retaking the Iron throne; her focus would turn to learning what it meant to be the dragon's heart. While he would do all he could to support her, others would take a different stance.

"In time yes, dragons belong in the center of the world. But the dragons in Old Valyria perished with the people." She looked at her children. "Those who survived left before the doom; and they must have had help."

He nodded; he wasn't sure where she where her mind was going but he would not push her today, there was enough to be done. Her council wanted to meet, and he suspected it would be time to tell them of her plans.

The rumor of Jon's parentage was beginning to spread, Tyrion had questioned what he knew of it only yesterday; Jorah had wondered if she had not encouraged it herself. Her reluctance to move south and silence let everyone know something had changed; but they waited uneasily to see what would happen.

Jorah left her with the dragons and slipped away, the tales of dragons in the past centered on Old Valyria and the dragon lords who strived to keep their blood pure and their connection to the dragons strong. The knowledge of that great empire had fallen with the city, of dragons and magic among many other things and for centuries those who dared to pass through that smoking sea never returned.

Before the council met, he wove through the halls to find Winterfell's library, he didn't know if there would be any information to help him or not. Jorah had never minded reading, but he was not optimistic that a Northern library would have too much information.

The room held hundreds of books and scrolls, Jorah roamed, taking his time to look at the different books, tucking a few into his arm. When he heard a thud and gasp Jorah turned to find Sam Tarly picking up a several volumes from the floor.

Leaning over he picked up a scroll that had rolled away. "I didn't mean to startle you."

"No, no. I just wasn't expecting anyone to be around." Sam's words tumbled out as he reached for the scroll. "The library is not the most popular place."

"It is an interesting one." He wasn't surprised to find Sam in here, they had first met at the citadel; the young man's love of reading had a part in saving his life.

"Is there something you're looking for?" The young man asked helpfully.

"I don't know." Jorah did not hesitate to answer out of distrust, but it was hard to explain what exactly he hoped to find; something of an ancient city, dragons or magic. He was hoping he would know it when he saw it. "Have you come across anything from the East?"

Sam paused and then turned, leading him between the shelves to a different section, pulling down a volume that would be more than enough to keep him busy. The next several hours were spent skimming the text, there were many mentions of magic and even a few slight attempts to explain certain elements; Jorah read it even if he didn't buy it.

Magic was real, he'd witnessed too much to question that, but centuries had passed, and magic faded; many doubted. They could not find the true source and so tried to dismiss mystical powers with natural explanations, dissecting the stories of those who witnessed the unexplained or relegating them to children's stories.

The North had witnessed the truth of a legend every child heard; it had come at a high cost. What had happened to him could not be ignored either, too many had witnessed it; and there was no answer but magic. Though whispers already spread that he had not died, he'd been left injured in the snow and grown too cold, or been dismissed as gone by a woman who did not know what a man could survive; they were afraid to admit that he could not be explained.

It was a good thing few had seen the mark he wore, it had changed with time, but it did not fade. No longer and angry red it had faded to a deep purple hue but the details had become precise and it seemed as though the mark itself responded to forces around him. Jorah was glad it was easily covered, hiding his reaction at times was more difficult, the whole of his chest ached when it became inflamed; he'd woken to it early this morning and been unable to do anything but wait for it to pass.


	7. Chapter 7

Her announcement had not been taken well by some, many had been too stunned to react right away but with time they found words and Jorah ran interference where he could. She had said it as well as any could and it looked good to the North, but to those close to her it was alarming; they were afraid of what she intended to do.

And Daenerys had no intention of revealing her plans, she encouraged Tyrion and Varys to throw their support behind her nephew, citing the strength of his claim. In truth he knew she had been skeptical of Tyrion's council and his loyalty for some time, even if she did respect his political mind; perhaps that made it easier. Varys turned to consider another's case a little to easily for his liking and Jorah hoped other established advisers noticed that as well.

The Unsullied was another matter, the men were soldiers and they would follow orders, but she had asked, and many had been visibly concerned. It was Grey Worm who gave voice to their fears and Jorah encouraged him to speak his mind.

"The Unsullied are yours, not Westerosi, we do not need Westerosi land or titles." Grey Worm spoke quietly, the man did not like to question her, even on this.

"You are free, you will have whatever you want Grey Worm, if you do not want to remain in Westeros the ships I leave will take you home; wherever your homes are." The Khaleesi promised; her eyes fixed on the Commander; he wondered if she saw the determination in his soldiers.

"Will our Queen be safe?" Grey Worm questioned. "Some do want to find homes and other lives, but we all want to know where our Queen will be? Will she be safe?"

"Ser Jorah will protect me." Daenerys glanced at him and then back to the man before her. "But please consider my request, long before I pursued the throne for myself, I was a bargaining chip for it. I was raised in the free cities to protect me from the man who sat upon that throne, men were sent to kill me because if I lived, I could continue the Targaryen line. I was sold against my will for an army to retake that throne, my brother had no concern for what would happen to me. Today I choose and I ask. I ask you to fight for my nephew, for a good man and for my house."

"Daenerys Targaryen gave me my freedom, the freedom to choose and I chose to fight for you; the Unsullied will fight for you in King's Landing. But your fighting will not be done when the Iron throne is won; the Unsullied will not be done." Grey Worm spoke passionately, and Jorah nodded, she knew how to inspire loyalty, but he wondered if she understood just how her soldiers felt for her.

Those men had never been meant to know freedom, they did because of her and that had a lasting impact. They might have ideas for what they wanted in the future; but first they wanted to serve her. Putting another on a throne they had spent years believing was to be hers was not an end.

"You want to join me? Missandei told me you might go to Naath." She asked.

"We do not belong here; we would go to Naath when our Queen's throne is won. But if you do not take the Iron throne you will not be here; Missandei and I want to be with you. Some of my men intended to remain with their Queen always." Grey Worm responded, and Jorah heard longing in his voice; he knew that feeling.

"If you wish to return to me when the fighting is done in King's Landing, remain there." Daenerys spoke slowly, he could see her working it out in her mind. "When you see dragons in the sky once again ask the King for a ship and take any men who wish to come; my children will lead you back to me. And I will always be grateful for your loyalty."

Grey Worm looked relieved that she accepted him, and Jorah wondered how many men would come with him; the experienced soldiers would certainly be welcome. But she invited no others for the first leg of the journey, and he didn't know how long it would be before her dragons turned West once more.

…

Tense and tired Daenerys left the hall, hoping sleep would be peaceful tonight; the day had not been. All day she had faced the reactions of men to the news that Jon Snow was not a Stark, not even a bastard; and that she would not be the next Queen of Westeros.

"Leaving Westeros does not mean you abandon the title you claim; it does not mean the West will not know your name." A voice behind her made Daenerys stop, she fought the urge to sigh; she knew that voice and had no energy to hear what he would say tonight. "You are Daenerys Stormborn, you are the Dragon Queen."

"Am I?" She asked quietly, she had just given up her army and her ships, asking only one man to follow her. It might be years before she saw others, if she saw them again, and it did not sit easily with her.

"The true magic you need is already within this world. It does not wait in the spells or potions of sorcerers, nor the lifeblood traded for whispered incantations; it was given long ago and died to man before the last dragon." Bran told her quietly, speaking as though he expected to be understood.

Daenerys committed the words to memory though she only nodded in response. A noise in the corridor made them both look back and she was relieved to see Jorah leaving the hall; when he saw them, he came forward instead of turning towards his own chamber.

His presence was steadying, maybe because he knew the pieces of the riddle she was trying to put together or just because he knew her well; he seemed even more aware of when she needed him now. He was calm when everyone else around her was in uproar, Tyrion and Varys had gone from shock to confusion and back again. Grey Worm had wasted no time in seeking her out and Missandei feared for her; both committed to finding her again.

She was touched that they wanted to, but she feared what it might mean for them, there was a real possibility she would never send her dragons for them. If it would take her from her purpose, she feared she could not do it; not if the price was as high as she feared. That Jorah would be with her was comfort and security; but she didn't know what she might have to ask of him in the days to come.

"Have you wondered why the dragon lords made such steel that men gave fortunes for it?" Bran asked them before turning his chair away.

Jorah frowned after the boy and then looked to her. "Are you alright Khaleesi?"

"Yes, just tired." But there was more to be done soon. "Tomorrow we must discuss our own way forward. I will not leave Westeros until the army has marched south."

"Of course." He dipped his head.

The army would march soon, some to East Watch to take the ships and others by land to surround the city on all sides. It was Jorah who had suggested pressing forward on a land offense while the enemy was looking to the sky. Word came that the towers were prepared to defend the sky, and while her dragons would not be there it meant there would be a small window in which the North could gain the upper hand.

Daenerys would take her dragons south east and cross the narrow sea, returning to the Eastern continent where she had been raised; but her destinations were new. Old Valyria was ruined yet Bran's words of guardians ran through her head she knew there must be more to the city's structure than the stories told.

For centuries the Valyrians had thrived, known for many things as they conquered new territory; but one was their steel. Valyria had excelled in so many industries and intellectual methods, but it was with dragons that they won their wars. Valyrian steel was like nothing else, coveted and prized today, the secrets of making it had been lost in the doom. Yet since the beginning they had made steel, next to dragons it was one of the oldest secrets of the great civilization.

It may never have been the dragon lords who had controlled the creatures that had built the freehold into prominence. There was a connection between the Valyrians and the dragons, that much was clear, but Bran hinted that was not the important one; and so, the dragons had perished. Had the steel ever belonged to the dragon lords? Or had they made it for others?

In the morning Missandei carefully braided her hair, her friend was so observant and detailed Daenerys turned to ask a question. "Do you remember the armor Ser Jorah used to wear?"

"With the bear?" Missandei asked and she nodded; she had hoped her friend could recall it.

"Could you sketch it?" Daenerys asked, taking a scrap of parchment and quill, moving aside as Missandei reached forward to draw it. "Now add a dragon above, as though it were flying."

She watched the small sketch come together and nodded, not unlike the scene she had seen on the Western coast a few days ago. But she liked it, and she was beginning to believe that it spoke to a connection the dragons craved.

Daenerys would never wield a sword the way some did, yet from Drogon's back she could change the tide of a battle; and she had. But without Jorah's sword she would not be alive today. She went down to the forge, where the armorer had already begun work for the day. It took some time to explain what she wanted.

A new sword, two daggers and a set of armour without leather; the cold would not be a concern. The man looked at the decorations she wanted and nodded; she had seen the work he was capable of. It would take some time, but she had that, and she wanted it made right.

In the yard she saw preparations were already being made for the march south and Daenerys had to swallow hard; she was doing what was right. But it was not easy, and so she needed to look forward to her own goals; at least what she had figured out so far.

Jorah would be looking for her soon, she knew he had spent some time speaking with Ser Davos and trying to offer some insight into battle strategy for the North. But she needed his focus now, once their journey began, they could not turn back.

He expected that they would go to Valyria and in time they would; but first she must find her children. Magister Illyrio had made her children a gift to her at her wedding, unaware they lived, saying they had come from the shadow lands beyond Asshai. The eggs had come from the East, and the man who stood at her side, raised and branded by the dragon's magic came from the most Western corner of the North; and Bran confirmed he was the only man of his kind.

She had what she needed in the West; she'd had him in the East but never known why; she still didn't fully understand it. But an idea was forming, if Jorah was a guardian then so were his ancestors, they had come with the first men to Westeros ages ago; they had left the dragons and never looked back. It was Jorah who had been willing to give the dragon another chance, the guardians of the past had made new lives. Perhaps others had gone to the shadow lands, severing the true connection between man and the dragons long before Valyria fell. But why?


	8. Chapter 8

"Are you sure of this?" Tyrion asked, well his voice held more of a demand than a question. "Absolutely sure?"

"It's a little late to change my mind." She sighed, if she wasn't sure she would not have pressed forward with the choices she had. Daenerys knew there was no going back, more now than ever.

"Yes, it is." The man sighed and she felt her shoulders slump; she did not have to justify her choice. Not to him at least, and yet she turned from the window; he questioned her because he had chosen to support and believe in her.

"Once, as my journey began, as I was beginning to find a way back to this side of the world my children were taken from me. The Warlocks of Qarth took them because my dragons strengthened their magic; they intended to keep my children in chains and harness them for personal gain." She had been watching the preparations for the army's march and thinking of what she intended to do; what she may have figured out.

"You got them back." Tyrion eyed her, questions in his eyes.

"Yes, I did. Ser Jorah returned, and he took me to the house of the Undying but only I was able to enter; and in that moment I did not feel fear. I needed to find them, more than anything else in the world I wanted my dragons back, not because of their value or power but because they were my children. My babies who depended upon me, who had been ripped from my arms. The Warlocks showed me several visions, one of my husband and son, I longed to stay with them; to see the child I never got to hold. And then of the Iron thorn and winter but I did not go to it because I heard my children calling to me, I chose them; and our magic was stronger than the Warlocks." But she had not understood what they were showing her. "I cannot ignore them now."

Her previous hand stared at her for a long moment before he nodded, she knew he did not agree with her; and she could imagine what it looked like to him. He was not alone, they wondered if she was mad, but they did not see the pieces that she did, and they had not been given the eerie riddles Bran seemed to like throwing at her.

But soon it would not matter, they would ride South and she would head East; she did not know if their paths would ever cross again. She intended to leave soon, and when she left Tyrion, she went to check on the piece she was waiting for.

Jorah would be ready the day she wanted to leave but first she wanted to try something, it had played upon her mind for a little while now. And finding her way back to the forge Daenerys paused to watch the man standing near the flames; using long tongs to pull a container from the heat. When he turned and began to pour it into a mold he paused.

"Your grace, or…" He fumbled, unsure of what title to use now; she ignored it.

"Is that the sword?" Watching as the molten metal began to fill the mold and as though compelled, she reached out.

"Yes." The man's voice was barely a whisper as her fingers trailed through the liquid metal; her thoughts racing. "I did not delay out of…"

"The men needed their weapons first." The Northerners marched in the morning; he was not wrong to have finished their weapons ahead of hers; besides she had wanted to see this part.

Bran had said that magic was not held within the incantations or potions of sorcerers, though she had witnessed firsthand the power of such; she had known the price of those ways too. Why had the men who fought their wars from the backs of their dragons labored to make such steel? Unless there had been a reason.

She had a reason; she knew what it felt like to lose someone who she needed; she hadn't known just how much she needed him until he had given his life for hers. And then she was told she needed him even more. For years he had defended her, he had served and fought for her; he had been meant to be beside her.

But he was a fighter, he always had been and as they went forward, she knew they would face even more who wanted her dead; or to take what was hers. Jorah might never be fully at home on the back of her dragons, and she wondered if he was meant to be. He was a guardian, the first for many generations, the first to return to his dragon and returned to her by the dragons; she would arm him with dragon steel.

And she poured those thoughts into the metal, wishing for an incantation or a potion to add; something she knew would work. Instead she relied upon instinct and looked to the man who still watched her with fear in his eyes. "Can you pour my other pieces?"

"I need to work the blade; it is going to take some time yet." Gendry murmured.

"Pour the daggers, and the breast plate; they will not cool before you finish with them." She did not know how to make dragon steel, but she suspected dragons had a part to play.

When the pieces were poured, she instructed him to load them into a cart and waited as he got help to do so; walking out to where her dragons rested. The men moved forward hesitantly and lay the molds in the snow before backing away; their fear evident.

Daenerys crouched and ran her fingers through the liquid metal of each mold once more, she did not have a spell, but she did have a prayer. That these weapons would serve her guardian well, that they would protect him and strengthen him; that her gift would meet his needs. And then she looked up to find her children had drawn close, watching her intently.

Daenerys moved to stand between them, resting a hand upon each; her shoulders tense as she whispered the command. The last time she whispered the command her friend had risen from the grave, her children had returned him to her.

Their fire scorched the earth and raced over the molds of metal; surprised to see it shimmering in the flames. Daenerys strode forward and knelt again, intending to dip her fingers into the mold again she frowned; it felt as though the steel had thickened. With heat the metal should remain liquid but now it was like clay and she frowned; the metal needed something.

Not a potion, not a spell and it would not need life blood either and she looked up to her sons; silently asking for help. Drogon lowered his head and as she reached to stroke his snout he shifted, and Daenerys tumbled back in shock as her hand had slid into his mouth; one of his teeth had cut her palm.

Staring at the blood she struggled, blood magic was wrong, yet she had asked her children for help and Drogon had cut her. Her son loved to be stroked, he had jerked away from her before and snarled at her but never hurt her. In truth the cut was small and shallow, considering what he was capable of he had not hurt her.

Daenerys paused as the wound welled with blood, Bran had said spells did not require life blood, loosing this blood did not threaten her life; it was a small sacrifice and it would not be missed. Was this what he meant? She remembered the witch's words; the price of a life was another; but that was blood magic and she did not need a life. In fact, when she had, she had not offered such a sacrifice. Did her blood hold special magic? Blood was part of the bond between dragons and the dragon lords, were small amounts required in their magic? What was she willing to give?

She swallowed hard and held out her hand, running her palm across each mold and as the smear of red appeared the steel soaked it up. Her dragons leaned close and Daenerys eased back on her heels and murmured to them once more. "Dracarys."

The flames had barely receded when she reached out and her hands met solid metal. Excitement ran through her and she looked up to the men who watched uneasily. "Come here."

The armourer came forward hesitantly, she saw shock and awe in his eyes. "Your grace, I have never worked with Valyrian steel before."

"You will learn today; I need these weapons made well; I want that armour strong." Daenerys told him firmly, his work was good, she suspected he could figure it out; and she thought of the man who would wield them. "Make sure the weapons have good grips."

The man nodded and used tools to lift the molds back into the cart; she left him to his work. But that afternoon she could not resist slipping back to check and found him working feverishly, his face red, either from effort or the heat; he swallowed hard as he saw her.

Laying down the hammer he moved to show her two daggers. "It is unlike anything I have ever worked with before; it was like it wanted to be sharpened and..."

"It does, it is meant to." She wrapped her palm around the hilt of one, there were no precious stones or ornate details on these weapons.

But they were beautiful in their own way, he had woven two or three metals together in fine braids wrapping around the handle; the way Jorah wrapped braided fabric around his hands to gain better grip. Her fingers ran carefully along the edge, they looked sharp and they were; the one she held felt so evenly balanced it took no work to hold it straight. Dragon steel was the finest, and no one alive had ever worked with it in its original form; perhaps it was meant to be easier to work in a way.

"They are perfect. Have you begun the breast plate?" She had seen him working the sword and she did not rush him on that; she wanted it made perfectly.

"I've only worked it to shape; I haven't finished it; or even begun the detail work." He led her over to where a sheet of metal was strapped around a wooden frame.

"How strong is it?" She had never seen armour made of valyrian steel, only weapons made of it and those were highly prized.

"I don't know Your Grace." Gendry frowned, looking between her and his work.

"Strike it." She ordered, a blade had pierced Jorah's armour, and that had killed him. Valyrian steel was prized as being the best, what would that do to protect him?

He looked at her nervously and took up a sword from a nearby rack, she stepped back and watched him stab at it; the sword made only a small mark. It did not even come close to penetrating it, Daenerys told him to do it again and felt a surge of satisfaction; that armour would protect him well.

…

Jorah hurried through the corridor, the Northern army marched today, and they flew East. They had already been delayed once due to weather and he knew Daenerys at least intended to give the impression she flew to support the army; hoping to keep the enemy's attention on the sky.

He had his saddle bags slung over his shoulder and his sword strapped to his hip as he went to find the Khaleesi. They would first fly to Dragonstone, and then cross the sea to Mereen before making the final leg of their journey; even the dragons could not cross the whole of the world in a day.

He could admit he was a little uneasy about making the journey on the back of a dragon, and while he knew it was the most expediate method there was no subtlety to it. On Dragonstone and in Mereen there would be relative safety, but as they went further East, he suspected they would meet some resistance. Some would be out of fear; it had been centuries since dragons had roamed the skies; but he suspected there would also be other forces at work.

Pausing he knocked on her door and waited for her to give permission before stepping in. A neat pack sat on the end of the bed and he was pleased to see it was small enough he could tie it to his saddle bags. He'd made a strap of sorts to wear across his chest to carry their belongings on his back; he didn't think trying to turn one of the dragons into a pack animal would go over very well.

"Are you ready Khaleesi?" He knew this could not be rushed, but he also sensed it was best they leave with the army as Sansa would oversee the keep and he wasn't sure how welcome they would be.

"Yes, but I have something for you before we leave." She crossed to a chest along one wall and drew back a sheet. "They are of good quality and I believe they will suit you."

Jorah stared and took a few steps forward, for a moment he couldn't say anything. She'd had new weapons made for him and fine armour. "Khaleesi, I can't…"

"You will." Her voice carried an order and he nodded again; finally reaching out for the sword.

Even as he took it, he knew it was well made, perfectly balanced and the grip was twisted as he liked; he often found with sweat and time grips became difficult to hold. This one would not, and he saw the daggers were made in the same fashion but as he stared at the steel, he looked to her. "They are valyrian."

"They are, and from now on you will always carry weapons of dragon steel; it is all you will wear as well." She gestured to a set and Jorah could only stare at her.

He had never known of armour made of valyrian steel, the metal was far to precious and as he began to wonder where she had got so much, he looked back to her. The realization dawned on him as she stepped forward, she hadn't gotten it from anywhere; she'd figured out how to make it.

"Thank you, Khaleesi." He whispered, she drew close to him and he swallowed hard.

Her palm stroked his cheek and her gaze focused on him. "I believe the dragons first made the steel for their guardians. You cannot bond to the dragons as I can; but they need you and so they made the finest weapons. They are simple, I needed them done before we left, in time I will have them appropriately fashioned; but I need you by my side. I need you whole and well armed; well protected."

"They are too much already." He had never thought to carry a sword of such quality again; he'd relinquished the right to his family's, but he would carry these with pride.

And as he looked at the breast plate, he smiled a little, the bear of his house, and the dragon of hers; it was unique. Not the same as either sigil or crest but perhaps it was an indication of their future; perhaps he would always have a place at her side. She watched intently until he strapped them on, leaving the pieces he had previously used in the room.

"Now we head East." She murmured, her eyes still on him; perfectly content with her statement.


	9. Chapter 9

The Khaleesi did not stay settled as they flew, she nestled herself down in front of him, against his chest and while he knew it was only practical, he really didn't mind. She had not been in the North very long and the cold winds were strong today even though they flew South. He wore the fine armour she'd had made beneath his cloak and had far more of a wind break than she did.

Without stopping Drogon covered nearly a thousand leagues before mid afternoon, crossing mountains, forests and rivers, giving them an incredible view before they landed on Dragonstone. The strong hold was empty and seemed huge with only the two of them there, but they would only stay the night; tomorrow they would cross the Narrow Sea.

Jorah took their packs up to the castle, but he did not stay there; he needed to stretch his legs and move. Riding a dragon was far different than riding a horse, it used the whole of his body to keep him in place, and now he wanted to walk. Following the long winding staircase down to a courtyard that overlooked the sea he watched the dragons fish, much as they had when they were youngsters.

Diving beneath the waves to emerge with large fish, flipping them into the air to roast before gobbling them up. Out here he thought they seemed content, with space to fly, and fish to eat, but they were far enough removed from any villages that the threat of the dragons was somewhat reduced. They had what they needed here, and with their mother nearby what they wanted; in some of the places they had been it there had been more challenges.

After a time, he returned to the castle and found his way to the chamber he would use tonight and opened his small pack of food. There was a soft knock on his door, and he looked up as the Khaleesi walked in.

"May I join you?" She carried her own meal and set it on the table near him; pushing it away from her to role out a scroll. "I found this in the library, I don't know if it belonged to my house or others who've been here since."

It was a map of the far East and Jorah eased closer. "It has more detail than I've ever seen."

"I think we should go to the Eastern Coast of the shadow lands. If the people who settled your home were guardians, they went as far from Valyria as they could; those who went East might have done the same." She reached for her food and began to eat, as he nodded; his eyes scanning the map.

Perhaps made by a sailor or acquired by someone travelling in the East the map noted the ruined city he had seen before, but also several small communities; most near the borders of Asshai. There were a few more along the coast, he was doubtful that those who lived in the shadow lands would be very welcoming; but the dragons might encourage them to rethink certain things.

Jorah was still unsure of what they were meant to find there but the Khaleesi believed they needed to continue East; much farther than Valyria. He had never ventured that far East, in Essos he knew they both had some connections and there were similarities between the cultures and they knew what to expect; he'd only heard stories from the shadow lands. And the people who lived there seemed to like their way of life and the isolation that came with it; in the ports he'd met men from almost every other part of the world. But not the shadow lands.

He turned in early that night, in the morning they crossed the narrow sea, tomorrow would be the last night they spent in a friendly place and he knew he would need the rest. But in the early hours of the morning he woke, the mark on his chest clutching and pulsing again, irritated he rose; trying to rub the mark to ease the pain.

This was becoming a regular occurrence and it was not a habit he wanted to form. Knowing there was no sense in trying to sleep until it passed, he left his chamber to walk it off, but faint sounds drew him deeper into the castle. And as he approached the door to the Khaleesi's room, he found the source, she was the only other person here.

"Khaleesi?" He called, hoping for an answer, instead the muffled moans and cries continued, and Jorah winced; debating whether to intrude.

The whole of his chest ached now and when her cries were broken by a sob, he opened the door. Her eyes were closed though she thrashed in the bed, the covers twisted around her as she struggled; as though trying to escape the dream.

"Khaleesi." He lay a hand firmly on her shoulder, sliding his palm along her cheek; the light pressure was enough to wake her. She shivered, staring up at him with eyes full of fear and confusion. "You are alright, it was just a dream."

…

It had been more than a dream, it felt to vivid to be only a dream. No, Daenerys was quite sure the dragons were showing her what could have happened, and perhaps what would happen; though tonight they had played with her past. Showing her the life she might have had if the blood magic had worked, if Khal Drogo had survived and her son had been born; the dragons showed her other ways she could have lost them.

The sorceress' words playing through her head, in time that magic would have come to collect the life she'd bartered for; and it would have taken ten-fold what it gave. She'd heard another voice in that dream, a voice of caution; a familiar one.

It belonged to the man who woke her, but she knew Jorah had never said those words to her. He didn't like magic, she wasn't sure he even liked it now, but he had spoken with such authority and confidence on the way of it. Though it had only been his voice, she did not see him until he woke her. Did their pull become stronger as she drew closer to them? Were they encouraging her to answer their call?

She didn't know, but she knew she needed sleep soon and yet often it was in sleep her mind toyed with her. It was an unsettling thing; especially given the stories she had been told of her ancestors; yet she felt there was a reason for these dreams.

Still, Daenerys was glad Jorah had woken her when he did; she had already lost her son. But Jorah had already pulled back and she could tell he intended to leave. "Please stay for a little while."

"Let me get you some water Khaleesi." He moved a little way away and came back with the water skin, holding it for her to take a few sips. "How often have you been having these dreams?"

"Almost every night." She admitted, watching him frown; it felt good to tell someone. It felt good to have him here and she tugged him down to sit beside her; he was poised to leave, and she didn't want him to. "They're not the same, sometimes they're about the future, when I was trying to decide what to do, they kept showing me a battle where everyone died; where I was about to die."

He listened quietly as she told him about some, there were a few she could not remember clearly, she had only woken feeling uneasy and scared. Of how some dreams dealt with things that had never happened, and others showed her different ways the past could have gone; in each she lost those she valued most.

After a time, she leaned into his shoulder, few men would sit and listen to that; or if they did, they wouldn't care. But Jorah had listened to her intently and though he must be tired himself he did not interrupt.

She didn't remember falling asleep, but she woke the next morning tucked into her bed; she had not dreamed again in the night. And as they prepared to leave, he said nothing of it. The small map added to their packs they climbed onto Drogon's back and headed East once more.

Daenerys had not crossed the narrow sea on her dragon's back before, and the views were incredible. Drogon seemed to enjoy the spray of the rolling waves and glided low so the salty air stung her cheeks. She found it was quite comfortable to slide her frame down against Jorah's, he used the spikes she had shown him to keep himself anchored and she let her body stretch out, tucked partially under him, occasionally she felt him shift or adjust his grip.

As Drogon was unable to resist the urge to snap up a jumping fish she huddled herself down into Jorah, feeling his cheek against her shoulder as he turned his face from the cold water that sprayed over them. Her son rose a bit and tossed the fish into the air to cook it before swallowing it whole; seeming rather pleased with himself. They spent the rest of the trip with saltwater drying on their clothes, and she was relieved to arrive in Mereen.

She had been a little apprehensive of returning, of seeing what had happened in the city that had such an impact upon her journey. That Drogon chose to land in the very fighting pits where he had once swooped down to take her to safety, the place where the man with her had fought for his life; made her uneasy.

But as she looked at the empty and neglected stadium, and the grass growing through the sandy ring she felt a little better; some things had not turned back to past ways. The place had clearly been abandoned and as they slid from Drogon's back they were both quiet. It wasn't long before that was interrupted, and a man she had once cared very much for crossed the ring, watching her dragons take flight again.

"You've returned my Queen." Daario and a small unit of men strode across the sands; the man looked happy to see her. "The people were excited to see dragons in the sky again."

"I am afraid we are only here for the night." She murmured, seeing his eyes land on Jorah who stood behind her; she knew the two men had never been very friendly.

"You have a journey ahead of you then? And only one guard?" Daario's tone revealed exactly what he thought of the guard she had chosen; Daenerys was not unaware of the jokes he used to make at Jorah's expense.

They were different men, meant for different ways of life; they always had been. And while the excitement Daario had once offered her had been appealing, she could rely upon Jorah's steady presence. And while there might be an element of attraction in his loyalty to her there had been more to it, and she suspected had the element of it between her and Daario gone unanswered he might not have been in her service very long.

"Ser Jorah is more than capable of protecting me." She told him firmly, her gaze flitting back to the knight who stood silently a few paces behind her.

As they walked towards the pyramid Daenerys looked around, the city was thriving, and she saw more than one person pointing to the sky; her dragons headed North to rest beyond the city walls. Daario fell back to speak with Jorah, and she frowned a moment, hearing the man take a dig at him; but Jorah turned it right back around on him.

The last time Daario had seen Jorah she hadn't been sure if she would ever see him again; even though she had demanded he try. It had been easier than she thought leave one of them behind, but she could not describe the relief she felt when Jorah had returned to her. What the Commander of Mereen's guard didn't know was that he'd returned to her twice over since that day; perhaps that had changed things.

Either way she met with the city's leaders and listened to the work they had done, along with the plans they had for Dragon's Bay, but was grateful to retire for the night. She wanted to maintain good relations here, this place had taught her to rule, it had shown her the consequences of decisions and made her face difficult truths. Her life might not be following the path she had thought it would; but she did not regret the parts of her the past had built.

And when they left in the morning, she watched the city below as Drogon circled over it, seeing people point to the dragons and call out mhysa; they had not forgotten her either. But they headed East yet again, crossing cities and deserts before the land gave way to the pale stalks of ghost grass; the grass the Dothraki believed would end the world. They had entered the shadow lands.


	10. Chapter 10

The stories the Dothraki had told were not wrong, Drogon dipped as they soared above the shadow lands; tall pale grass shimmered and blew in the breeze below them as far as the eye could see. He shifted, looking to either side as they continued East, he was looking for any signs of life.

It was not until they reached the Southern coast that he began to pick out small villages and realized just how tall the ghost grass grew, it became much easier to spot the communities built in the shadows of grass that they had woven into homes. They dotted the coastline and he saw small crafts on the sea below, Drogon stayed high above the land as they flew up the coast.

Rhaegal stayed close on their right side as though he sensed the uncertainty that he knew the Khaleesi was feeling; he felt it too. The dragons had covered a lot of ground today and he knew they needed to rest too; they also needed food.

"We should make camp in land." He spoke loudly even though he looked over her shoulder, Drogon's speed had the wind whipping around them.

She nodded and they tipped up before turning back towards the dense fields of grass. As the dragons landed, he saw their talons slide into the grass, crushing it beneath them but the stalks on either side rose up and they beat on it with their wings; making their landing rougher.

The dragons did not stop moving so they could dismount, instead they circled and used their size to flatten the grass and create some space. Jorah climbed down and turned back to offer her a hand, he saw the apprehension in her eyes as she stepped down onto the coarse grass.

They looked up at a wall of grass that surrounded them, the dragons moved off a little, creating a larger spot for themselves now; Jorah slid off the pack he carried and shifted his sword to his hand. The Khaleesi stayed close to the dragons, so he walked the perimeter, trying to get a sense of this place.

He moved cautiously, cutting himself a narrow path, both so he could move and to find his way back. He was surprised to see small tunnels between the stalks at ankle height, a rustling in one to his left had him jabbing his sword blindly and coming up with a rabbit. Pleasantly surprised he loosened a strap on his belt and tucked the creature's feet under it before pulling it snug again; he wanted his hands free.

But as he continued, he caught several more, this place might be difficult for people to live in; the rabbits seemed to manage. He found a very old trail that might have been used by men or larger game, but it had been abandoned for some time; the grass that filled it was finer than what he had been cutting through.

Eventually he turned back, he had walked for over an hour and found nothing, he couldn't even be sure that trail had been made by men but from above it was impossible to tell if that was the only one nearby. Jorah relaxed a little as he came out in the clearing again, the Khaleesi stood between the dragons but immediately came towards him.

"Did you find anything?" She asked eagerly as he approached the dragons took flight, likely setting off to find their own food.

"Game trails, one might have been used by men, but it has grown in." He saw the disappointment on her face, but he didn't know exactly what they needed to be looking for.

Jorah spent some time clearing the ground, the stalks were not bad for cushioning and he made two pallets; spreading cloaks over them. Then began twisting stalks together, bending them over and twisting them tighter, he found only a few branches, but they had lots of the grass; it just needed to burn for more than a few seconds.

"Khaleesi." He murmured softly as she sat near him, trying to copy his movements, he took her hand, the coarse grass cut her palm; her skin was too soft for this task.

"You don't have to call me that." She whispered, rubbing the cut on her palm. "I'm not a Khaleesi anymore, or a Queen."

"You are my Queen." Jorah knew what she had given up, and that mattered; and he knew others had recognized it. He didn't believe she was meant to disappear into the East, even if he didn't know where she would end up.

Her smile was weak, and she stayed near him as he continued to work the grass into logs; they were going to need a lot of them. The dragons returned and circled restlessly as he cleared a circle, gathering the stalks into a pile near his pallet where he could continue working them throughout the night. Then he dug a pit and built a fire, as he struck the flint, he heard a low hiss; looking up to find Drogon watching him.

If a dragon could look disgusted this one did, but he needed a small fire to cook over; not a ten-foot radius of scorched earth. And after a moment he got it, building the fire up while he skinned and cleaned two of the rabbits and made a poor excuse for a spit, eyeing the dragon he didn't bother cleaning the others and tucked them into the flames.

…

She picked at the roasted rabbit; they had spent two days exploring the shadow lands from the sky but had little to show for it. When the dragons flew low people in the coastal villages ran for cover, on the water they even jumped from their boats to take cover beneath their boats and were tossed about by the waves.

Daenerys had tried to study those she did see, a few covered their bodies in some kind of dark ash, those men did not hide but stood trembling in the clearings of their villages watching the dragons in flight, the others wore clothes similar to that of the Dothraki; made of the grass that overran their world.

Rabbits were plentiful here but little else seemed to be, Jorah had cut trails deep into the ghost grass, he'd found a stream to get fresh water and came back with as many rabbits as he could get and while they each ate one she fed the rest to her children. They fished at the coast, but she knew they weren't eating enough, and both had a penchant for rabbit; it was the food she had first taught them to cook themselves.

And Daenerys enjoyed hand feeding them, both could be incredibly gentle when they wanted to be. She was trying to discourage them from burning anything near camp as it would not take much for the ghost grass to go up all around them. After a time, she offered the rest of her rabbit to Jorah, he was probably hungrier than her; she felt useless around camp.

His hands were bruised and cut from twisting the stalks of grass, but he took the food; though his eyes ran over her. "Perhaps I should work from the ground tomorrow, if I follow the stream, I may find something."

"I won't be able to see you from above." And she was not sure they were welcome in these lands, they had turned in land today and found the ruined city on the map, ghost grass had even attempted to overtake that; but it had yielded nothing.

He nodded, but she was starting to wonder if she had been wrong; perhaps they should have simply gone to Valyria. As the sun set low, she curled down onto her pallet, watching as Jorah put out the fire and lay his sword by the head of his pallet before laying down.

Daenerys struggled to get to sleep, she could feel a dream edging in and she did not want to dream tonight. She was trying to do what she was meant to and doing the best she could off the information she had. Finally, she shifted, sitting up she glanced to where her dragons slept behind them and over to Jorah, the last time he had woken her from a dream it had not returned.

Hesitantly she rose, and crossed to his spot, aware that he was awake and watching her approach. She lay down next to him, turning her face into his chest; whispering to him. "I do not have the strength to dream tonight."

He said nothing but his hand slid to her back and rubbed gently; easily making her feel safe. She slept until she felt him stirring and realized he was tense; the dragons were shifting too. Suddenly fire lit the night sky and illuminated the camp, a shadow stood frozen at the mouth of the trail to the stream.

Jorah was on his feet, sword in hand as both dragons screeched; sending their flames into the sky again. Giving her a better look, she saw their intruder was only a child; and fear was written clearly across the young boy's face.

"Jorah stop!" The boy cowered as the man strode forward, Jorah would never harm an innocent, but she wasn't sure if he had seen that.

The knight strode forward, the boy was barely tall enough to reach Jorah's chest, she didn't know what his intentions would be, but he had to see he was far outmatched; that should be enough to make him reconsider. The boy flinched and shifted as if to run but Jorah didn't give him the chance.

Getting hold of an arm Jorah dragged the boy forward, the shimmering light of the ghost grass kept his face in shadows but when he was pushed down to sit, he stayed where he was put. As Jorah knelt to light the fire, she moved closer to get a better look at him; he couldn't be more than thirteen or fourteen.

"Do you speak the common tongue?" She asked, the boy looked between her and Jorah, he didn't understand her; Daenerys tried Valyrian. "Do you understand me?"

He still stared blankly but as Jorah stood, the fire crackling now, he curled into a ball; eyes wide. Jorah frowned and glanced to her. "Boy, why have you come here?"

"Beasts of war." The boy spoke with a heavy accent and pointed to where her dragons watched what was happening.

"You speak Dothraki?" She asked, surprised, the words were unique, and his accent was different from anything she had ever heard; the boy looked at her in confusion.

"The language may not be called Dothraki here Khaleesi, the Dothraki came from the East centuries ago to escape the ghost grass." Jorah told her, he stayed on his feet, after he spoke to her, he switched back to Dothraki. "What do you want with the beasts of war?"

"I journey to the city of bones. I must." The boy looked at Jorah for a moment, as though expecting him to understand then he looked to her; there was almost desperation in his expression. "The beasts of war are of it."


	11. Chapter 11

He watched the boy closely; the Khaleesi made her bed next to him and Jorah pointed the boy towards the pallet she had abandoned; within moments he had curled into the cloak and fallen asleep. Jorah lay propped on his side for awhile watching the shadows dance through the camp, the boy wasn't a threat and was little more than skin and bone; but there could be others with him.

That the dragons camped near them was reassuring, any fight they went into he expected to be out manned; but not overpowered. Eventually he did sleep again, waking in the early light of dawn, the Khaleesi had curled into his side and Jorah hated to move her but gently he did and as she stirred, he soothed her. "I am going hunting, sleep a little longer."

She murmured sleepily and curled into the space he had abandoned, Jorah paused just a moment, unable to resist the urge to smooth long blonde hair back from her cheek. And then he stood, glancing to the child who snored softly and back to the dragons. He needed to get food, but he would not go too far.

It was easy to follow the boy's tracks back to the water; he filled the canteens then set about catching rabbits. He built a fire and cleaned the meat for them, throwing the others into the fire to cook for the dragons; his eyes drifted back to the child.

The boy was dirty and beat up, life had been rough on him for a while, but someone had made the clothes he wore with care, he wore a chain of good metal around his neck and he slept soundly; as though he felt safe. Jorah had half expected him to be gone in the morning, along with anything he could steal.

But the boy was here and when offered a rabbit fell upon it as though he were starving; why seek them out? He approached them with the innocence of a child, many men would have cowered, gnashed their teeth with hate but even fierce warriors would think twice about approaching the dragons. Did he believe they searched for the same thing?

"What is your name?" Jorah asked in Dothraki as he sat on one end of the pallet; the Khaleesi sat beside him.

"Nahyan." The boy replied with a full mouth, barely pausing between bites.

"What is the city of bones?" He continued, seeing the boy gulp to clear his mouth.

"It holds the magic of my people. Once beasts of war crossed the great sky and fell upon the plains, they built a circle of stone and lived peaceably in it for many generations." The boy paused, looking longingly at his food, but continued. "Then more came, they battled in smoke and flame, but all they left behind were bones. The grass cannot claim that land and no man has ever taken it."

Nahyan had spoken with the awe of a child repeating a story he had heard many times; but Jorah knew somewhere in that story there was some truth. "Why do you want to go there?"

"I must. The sons of every khal must." The boy's voice dropped to a whisper. "Or I can never go home."

Jorah nodded, and the boy resumed eating, so the people here lived under a similar structure to the Dothraki. Only rather than raid to prove their strength and bravery these people must follow the men who were brave enough to venture to the city of their legends. He wondered how long this boy had been on his pilgrimage.

The child stared in awe as the Khaleesi reached into the hot coals and pulled out the rabbits, taking them back to where the dragons waited as he loaded and balanced their pack. "Where is your city of bones?"

"The river flows from it to the sea." The boy told him, eyes still on the dragons who were preparing to take flight now.

"Then we will follow the river, given we didn't see it before we will have to do it from the ground." The Khaleesi returned to them as the dragons lifted off, they would likely go to hunt for themselves now; a few rabbits would do nothing to satisfy their appetites.

…

Jorah led as they followed the river, she stayed close to his side and the boy followed them; he would do a better job keeping up if he could pull his eyes from the dragons that circled above them. They moved for most of the day, Daenerys did not want to complain, she knew Jorah would likely move much faster alone even though he carried his armour as well as the pack with their belongings.

But he kept to her pace and remained attentive to her needs, offering her water and rest often; she took the water and continued moving. That night when the dragons cleared a place for camp she made two pallets while he hunted, and silently piled the stalks near one; Daenerys knew better than to try twisting the stalks herself.

That night she slept beside him again and her dreams did not come, at least not the terrifying ones. Instead she drifted through a sea, walking over a land untouched by man, yet men came. Not to build, not to steal or destroy; they would not dare. Daenerys hated to leave it when morning came, but Jorah had rose some time ago and he was back in the camp now; he looked at her knowingly.

"You were dreaming." He murmured, his eyes shifting to the boy who still slept soundly on the other side of the fire. She nodded, but frowned slightly, it had not been a nightmare this time. Yet she noticed he rubbed the mark on his chest often that morning, was there more to that dream that she should have noticed?

However, as they continued that day, she saw Jorah's hand shift more often too his sword, along the edges of the water there were bones, some baked white by the sun while others had tall stalks of grass growing through them. Nahyan stayed much closer to them today, how many boys had journeyed as he did only to lose their lives along this river?

Suddenly they heard cries, pounding hooves and Daenerys spun, looking for the source as Jorah drew his sword. They came from upriver, two men, their bodies covered in marks made of red clay, their curved weapons raised. Jorah shoved the pack from his shoulders, tossing it to the riverbank before wading deeper into the water.

"Go!" He ordered. "Stay out of sight until it is done."

She swallowed hard but stumbled into the tall grass, Nahyan tried to help as he scrambled for cover too. Daenerys stopped and dropped to her knees on the bank, watching between the stalks as the horses closed on him. Jorah didn't flinch, he held his sword at the ready and let the first rider get close, that sharp blade spinning before it took aim for his chest.

But the knight ducked at the last second, only the blade of his sword remained raised. And it hooked the weaker weapon as Jorah pulled the rider into the water; running him through. Before the second rider could reach him, a dark shadow passed above them, the rider's torso disappeared as huge talons wrapped around it and the man screamed as he was lifted from his horse.

A foot clipped Jorah's head as the man struggled uselessly against Drogon's grip, her son easily crushed his opponent but did not drop him. And as Rhaegal swooped down, grabbing hold of the man Jorah had dispatched Daenerys rose. "No!"

"Khaleesi." Her knight's tired voice soothed as the dragons soared higher, tossing the carcasses into the air to burn them. "They are dragons."

She knew that, she knew those men would likely have killed them all given half a chance; and her dragons were hungry. Their instincts could not be changed, were they in another place where the dragons had the food they needed, they likely would have left the bodies be; in the wars they had not tried that with the fallen.

"They deserved to die." A quiet voice whispered from her side. "They were Zoken."

"What are Zoken?" She asked, trying to pronounce the word correctly, his accent was different from the Dothraki and she struggled to understand some of his words; but she had never heard that one.

"An outlaw." Jorah murmured.

"They are the son's of khals, they chose evil. They do not return from the city of bones, but guard it away from those who seek it. Killing those who bring sacrifices for healing, stealing the gifts for themselves, and those of us who are true to our blood." Nahyan said darkly, he had watched the dragons consume the men; the fear in his eyes gone.

She saw Jorah's eyes harden, and she knew there would likely be more than two men who chose greed over blood; not every boy who did not return to his village died out here. But they waited while Jorah managed to catch the horses, helping her onto one and Nahyan onto the other. He walked beside her horse, his eyes constantly moving as they continued upriver.

By the time they made camp again the river was wider and deeper, Daenerys knew they were nearing the source. That night the dragons cleared only a small space and settled, when Jorah started to extend it Drogon roared at him; that night they slept on small pallets with the dragons folded around them. And Nahyan curled between them, Drogon did not know the boy and kept trying to get into his space, Daenerys had to put her hand on the dragon's snout more than once to stop her son from being unruly; keeping the boy close to her. But the dream came again.


	12. Chapter 12

In the morning he was pleased to see the horses still where he had tethered them, restless from spending the night with the dragons so close but none the worse for wear; they would be able to move faster today. Jorah walked them down to the water to drink before he hunted for the morning, taking a moment to dunk his head under the cold water.

His chest had been pounding all day yesterday and it seemed worse this morning, but he had woken several times in the night to check on the Khaleesi only to find she slept soundly. Had it been a warning of the Zoken they met yesterday afternoon? Did it mean they would meet another threat today?

Jorah suspected they were getting close, or perhaps he hoped they were. A sound in the grass made him freeze, his hand shifting to his sword as he began to turn; eyes searching for a source. Behind him Nahyan crouched on the path, the boy had caught a rabbit; Jorah smiled.

As he hunted the boy stayed with him, a quiet shadow watching every move; when a rabbit slipped past him the boy tried again. He missed that time, tumbling into the dirt, but not long after he got another chance and made the catch; adding his to the string. The boy carried only a short dagger, but someone had taught him to hunt with his hands, the dagger did not come out until it was time to clean and skin their meal.

Walking back into the camp Drogon shifted, blocking their way again, making low snarls at Nahyan who shied back. Jorah did not have the confidence the Khaleesi did in handling the dragons but kept walking, knowing the dragon recognized his scent and would not harm him; the boy stayed tucked into his side. The Khaleesi abandoned the pack she had been loading to back the huge creature off.

"He is only curious; he has been around us since he was hatched. If he was going to hurt you, he would have done it already." Jorah told the boy, with dragons, like many animals there was an element of confidence required; on some things you simply had to stand your ground and learn what their actions and sounds meant.

The dragons were used to people being afraid of them, perhaps the boy's curiosity intrigued Drogon, the red and black dragon had always been a little more unpredictable than the others. He'd seen the dragon kill, but he'd also seen it behave like an oversized dog when the Khaleesi stroked his snout or leaned into his cheek; soaking up the attention like a pet might. They were complex beasts, and even having watched them grow up he did not fully understand them, he wasn't sure the Khaleesi did either.

That day he mounted with Nahyan and they rode along the river, the dragons did not circle to stay right with them but soared on ahead and as the river widened, they stuck to the shallow banks until they rounded a bend and came to a crumbling stone wall.

Shattered stone stopped the horses from going any further and as he swung down Jorah notice the path, though made of fallen stone it was worn smooth from use. They were far from the first to climb through this ruined defense, the grass wove and twisted about the wall itself but as he climbed up and looked across, he saw that the wall was the grass' boundary; within was only blackened stone and bones.

He felt a pang of pain cross his chest as he tied the horses and helped the Khaleesi down, and then through the gaping hole. On the other side water burbled through the stones, it was hard to tell what had once been here as much of the place had been leveled, leaving only fallen stone.

Out of the corner of his eye saw Nahyan take off racing deeper into the place, it was not so much a city he thought as a stronghold; a small one by most standards. They followed at a slower pace, Jorah kept a hand on his sword and fought to ignore the pain in his chest there was something off about this place; he didn't need the dragon's mark to tell him that.

…

She nearly called to Nahyan as he disappeared around a jagged tower of stone, perhaps it once had been the corner of a building but now it was rubble. People had picked their way through this rubble and Daenerys stayed close to Jorah as they followed the path that had been made, nothing had been cleared away and as they rounded the corner her breath caught in her chest; the sight and the smell hit hard.

Jorah put a hand on her arm, a silent instruction to stay as he started forward; Daenerys could only stare at what lay before her. Wide steps led up to a high platform, somehow undamaged by whatever fate had befallen this place; but another sort of carnage lay here. Bones of many kinds, baked in the sun or only beginning to be exposed and bodies, of animals and people; some so small her heart broke.

She started towards one, it lay face down on the steps and at first, she thought they might have fallen there; but Jorah grabbed her arm. He only shook his head, his face set in a grimace, that child had not fallen, at least not by accident. But as she looked at Jorah something passed over his face, blue eyes closed, and his jaw clenched; his hand gripping his chest.

As she stepped closer, he hit his knees, Daenerys caught his shoulders, leaning him into her middle as the man seized in pain; a groan tore from his throat. "Jorah, what's wrong? What is happening?"

He did not respond, at least not with words, a sob of pain ripped from him as the dragons screeched above; stone crumbling as they landed. Daenerys shifted to look at them, what was happening? Why was he in such pain?

But a small yelp above made her look up the stairs to see Nahyan, the boy's path blocked by her dragons; and her dragons snarled viciously. He had something in his hands and was backing up the way he came, but she saw one opening its mouth. "Drogon no!"

Her shout was enough to make the dragon pause, it looked at her with dark eyes and she saw fury there. Against her Jorah shifted, his voice barely a whisper. "Help him."

She looked between the man and the boy, but as Drogon turned back to the boy she stepped away from Jorah. They knew the boy had joined them for his own purposes, they had no expectation that he come with them; but she did not understand her dragons. As she reached Nahyan her eyes locked on what he held, a blackened piece of stone and a bone; was that his mission? To steal from this place. For what, to prove he had been?

As Daenerys pulled the boy into her side, and started forward she saw Jorah collapse, tumbling down the steps. She raced forward and saw his body writhe; a cry of agony broke from him and as she got closer it got worse.

Suddenly he went slack and as her heart pounded, she heard a cry of fear; Drogon had shoved Nahyan backwards and the boy disappeared across the platform. Her dragons closed on Jorah, their wings brushing and sheltering him; as she approached Rhaegal lowered his head and snarled at her.

Daenerys stared at them, she could no longer see Jorah, but she could hear his ragged breathing, glancing back she looked for any sign of the boy they had accosted. Steeling her nerve, she pushed beneath their wings and went to the man in pain; both dragons snarled above her head. She had never heard them snarl at her in such a way.

But as she knelt beside him Jorah struggled to sit up, still breathing hard, his face was pale and damp with sweat. She brought his head to her chest, letting him lean into her as his eyes closed again. The dragons had brought him back to her, they could not take him away now.


	13. Chapter 13

He struggled upright but trying to take a step forward made the mark ache again; behind him Drogon hissed dangerously. The Khaleesi kept a grip on his arm, and he saw her worried gaze, but did not know what to say to reassure her. He did not know what this was.

"Nahyan." He called, ignoring the dragons shifting closer to him. "Nahyan, no one will hurt you."

Something was happening here, and as the dragon's mark pulsed hard on his chest Jorah pressed the heel of his hand to it, trying to dull the pain as the boy's eyes peered at him from the platform above. He saw the fear in the boy's face, he could not see what was clutched in his hands but he suspected were the dragons not here the boy would have raced past him. And then the dragons started forward, their snarls terrifying.

"Go to him." He murmured to the Khaleesi, trying to prepare himself for what might follow.

The Khaleesi looked at him a long moment and then started up the stairs, the pain he had expected did not come as she drew closer to Nahyan, not until she touched the boy. Then it exploded and Jorah fought with all he had to stay upright, when she tried to bring the boy towards him Jorah hit his knees.

"Don't touch him." He murmured, though it came out more like a plea.

He didn't know what was happening to him, but he had a feeling the dragons recognized something they didn't, they didn't want Nahyan here and Jorah feared they might do something to him; but they wouldn't harm their mother.

Jorah did not understand why this was happening, unless being here had changed something within the boy, or perhaps within him. They had travelled together for several days, Nahyan had been close to both of them at different times. Had the dull aches he felt not been warnings of danger or the Khaleesi's dreams at all? Had something within him sensed the boy was different?

Steeling his nerves, he dragged himself up a few more steps, it hurt, but as long as the Khaleesi did not touch the boy, he could make a little progress. He crawled over bones, shoved aside for new offerings, and finally made it to the platform; though he could barely breathe.

"Why must the khal's sons come here?" He asked, surveying the large round platform, here there was even more death.

"I must make a blade of bone and take blackened stone to mark me, then my magic will rise, and I will protect my people." Nahyan told him, eyeing him nervously. "Why are you hurting?"

"How will you protect your people?" His mind raced back to their time over the coast and the men who guarded the huts, their skin covered in ash and as the boy shifted, he saw a dark patch on his hand; it was not ash.

"My spells will bind my enemies and they will not attack; my magic will be stronger because my bone blade will be tied to this place; tied tighter than theirs." The boy told him and now held out his hand. "With every spell the smoke will cover me, it will strengthen me, and my enemies will fear my magic."

Jorah sighed as the dragons hissed behind him and he heard a soft sound from the Khaleesi. He understood now why the men who guarded the huts when they flew over did not carry weapons, and why they trembled; their magic had not touched the dragons.

"What is the cost of your magic? How many will die to protect your villages?" The Khaleesi demanded, anger in her voice and he saw her eyes slide across the platform.

But he had already looked, it was not just the people here who used this place, people came from Asshai as well, he saw the masked dead. He saw the bones, only a spot in the middle of the platform was left empty.

"There must be a sacrifice, and sometimes it is a great one." Nahyan murmured, but his words were drowned out by Drogon's roar of anger.

"Children?" He saw the disgust in her eyes.

"A child has the strongest life force, a girl's stronger than a boy's because she can bear more into life." The boy whispered and Jorah saw the look in her eyes harden; he'd seen that look before. And he wished the boy had stopped there, he wished the boy did not sound proud of himself. "I made my first sacrifice five seasons ago, I stopped the great sky from washing us away; my sister was glad to…."

"Khaleesi!" He called her attention to him, willing Nahyan to stop; fighting against the pain that exploded through him. Jorah switched to the common tongue as he saw the fire in her eyes, the gentleness she had viewed the boy with was gone. "Khaleesi he is a child doing what he has been taught, what he has been taught is right."

"It is not right." She spat back, and her dragons made rumbles of approval at that; he knew they sensed her thoughts. And she was moving towards him. "I used blood magic because it was the only way I had been told of, because I had to return dragons to this world; but that witch was not innocent. I wanted her dead, the dragons wanted her dead; they want him dead now."

"He is a boy." Jorah pleaded, he knew what she intended, and he would not let her do it. "How will they ever change if no one shows them?"

"Do not tell me a mother does not know this is wrong." Her eyes swept across the platform and he saw the hate in her face. "They have seen my dragons; they cannot believe this is right."

Jorah did not say a word, instead he loosened the ties on his shirt, letting it fall open to reveal the dragon that flew across his chest; he spoke in Dothraki now. "Come here boy."

Pain flared through his chest and spots dotted his vision, but the boy stopped six feet from him; mouth open and round as he stared. "Nahyan the dragons brought me back to life, and they did not demand the murder of another to do it. Leave this place and take nothing with you, if you do not; I don't know that I can stop the dragons."

And he wasn't sure his Queen would. Jorah watched the boy decide, staring at him for several moments longer before throwing his prizes aside and running; the dragons growled but did not chase him with flames. He knew full well the boy would find somewhere to hide and come back once they left, but he could not bear to be near him much longer; and he did not want to watch a child burn. No matter what he'd done. As the boy fled the dragon's mark eased on his chest until it was only a dull ache; but it did not stop.

…

She stared after the boy, anger pumping through her veins but she did not contradict him; the strength of her reaction had caught her off guard. Instead she turned to look at the mark she had not seen for weeks now, it had changed she thought; it looked like it belonged on him now. And Daenerys drew closer, wanting to touch it, wanting to hold him for a moment.

When he collapsed, she had truly feared she was losing him again; but then her dragons moved to protect him. To protect him even from her and she frowned, she had been able to approach Nahyan, to touch the boy and bring him into her side; thinking to protect him from her children even as he held the tools he would use to kill. But Jorah could not get near him without pain.

Jorah's pain became unbearable when she touched him and she realized it was not because of her magic, or the boy's; there was something powerful within him. Fierce and strong, when she offered her protection to a boy washed in blood magic it tried to claw its way out of her friend; it made it impossible for him to draw close. Was it from the mark? Or was it something he had always held?

He'd bound the witch to the pyre that hatched her dragons, but he had not done so eagerly; and the witch had deserved to die. Perhaps it was not how dragons were meant to come into the world, but she had known no other way; in truth that day she had not wanted another way. That witch had stolen her husband and her son, their deaths had to mean something; it could not go unpunished.

But the dragons were showing her another way, in her dreams and the instincts that were awakening within her; those instincts had demanded the boy be punished. Had the dragons wanted to kill Nahyan all this time? Did that mean there was a battle within the powers of magic?

Jorah's hand covered hers, gently nudging it from his chest so he could fix his shirt; blue eyes fixed on hers. "Your heart is too gentle to kill a boy brainwashed by what he has been taught; he will not forget you or the mercy shown him today."

"I hope not, because I fear there will be a day when I must destroy all magic of that kind." Had she discovered the magic that destroyed Old Valyria and brought the doom? Magic that crippled the guardians and relied upon death could not lead to anything good; but she knew the hope it could offer to a desperate heart.

Blood magic was dangerous, and that danger relegated it to a topic of whispers and desperation. To some it was one final chance, to others it was power or gain but at such a high cost. A life every time, at least one and sometimes more, perhaps it didn't seem so bad; it was thought to be used rarely. Until one stared at generations of it.

How many had lost their lives in this place alone? How many had been children told legends of power? How many had been slaves with no choice at all? And even more came to take the stones of this place, the bones, to harness power its to take with them; who knew how many lives those men took.

Yet looking around this place she wondered how many had been here before them, looting what was left and leaving the offerings for their magic behind. Anything of value had been taken many years ago, perhaps it had been guardians who came here, or the dragon's heart, taking the powers that bound the dragons to the Valyrians with them. Either way the Valyrians had come, and they had destroyed this city with dragon fire, anything to do with the dragon's power would have been stolen. And then lost in the doom.

"There is something here Khaleesi, something powerful." Jorah murmured beside her, but she saw his gaze roving over the place as hers did.

He looked exhausted, his face was still pale and blue eyes had a hollow look; he'd spent so much energy as his power warred within him. She wanted to be away from this place, in truth something deep within her wanted to burn it until nothing but scorched earth remained; and at that thought Drogon nudged her hand. As she lay her palm on his snout she felt the fire within him, it radiated through her like a spark; and she saw longing in her dragon's eyes.

"Let's camp away from here tonight and return tomorrow. I cannot bear to be here any longer today." And he was right, there was something powerful here, they both needed rest before they faced it.


	14. Chapter 14

They did not bother to make camp that night, the dragons landed and flattened an area but as he started to make a pallet the dragons circled closer and rested on either side of them. Later Jorah woke, the mark pulsing hard though the Khaleesi slept soundly next to him. But as he shifted, he saw Rhaegal's eyes glowing behind him, the dragon eased forward, growling low in his throat and Jorah knew; Nahyan had gone back for what he wanted.

He glanced at the Khaleesi and settled again; the dragons knew but did not move to pursue, hopefully the boy would be well away from this place by morning. And privately Jorah hoped they would not be far behind.

Jorah did not sleep easily that night, and at dawn they returned to the ruins, as they climbed through the wall the dragons circled to land at the platform; waiting as they arrived. The mark on his chest pulsed as they walked through this place, but it did not act as it had yesterday, the pain was tolerable now; even if it did not go away.

He eyed the dragons as they climbed the steps, reluctantly he shifted to look around them as they came to the top. He had already seen enough of what was obvious, the death in this place was inescapable; but there had to be something more. There was a reason for it all and as he looked to the far side of the platform, he confirmed one thing, dragons had lived here; and died here.

A skull whitened with age and twice the size of either of the Khaleesi's dragons' heads was partially obscured by the bones piled in front of it; resting at the edge of the stone platform. Approaching it he realized it was not the edge but a cavern of smashed stone; the platform continued on the other side. What was left of the other bones had either been carried away or fallen into the crater that must have been created when this creature died. Had it plummeted back to earth mid flight?

It had been massive, looking at the path of destruction he suspected its tail had taken out a section of the Eastern wall, not far from the hole they had climbed through. A few other large bones remained, a vivid white against the scorched stone; they must have been too difficult to remove. He suspected someone had given it a good try though, he didn't know how many bones a dragon had but there were large gaps between what remained, and most of the teeth were gone from the skull.

They had to climb down from the platform and pick their way through the rubble to get around it, they were both silent; eyes drawn back to what must have been a magnificent and terrifying creature. Even the dragons resting near them were quiet, Jorah wondered if either of the Khaleesi's dragons would grow so big.

"What if someone has already taken what we need?" The Khaleesi finally whispered, on this side there were fewer bones, but it was evident this place had been thoroughly explored.

Jorah felt the dragon's mark pulse on his chest and looked to the dragons who were settled on their perches; watching them intently. "They haven't."

But that meant it was not a bone or piece of stone that had drawn them here, it was something that must have been carefully hidden by those who built this place. And as he watched his Queen, he suspected it was something meant to remain hidden until this day; until the Dragon Queen came.

No, the magic of these people paled to that of the dragons, they had trembled when their spells did not bother Drogon or Rhaegal. The boy's magic had angered the Khaleesi and her dragons, but it had sent him to his knees; barely able to function. These people would not have found what the had dragons hidden here, not unless the dragons allowed it. But what part did he play?

As the Khaleesi still stared at what remained of a dragon she had never known Jorah noticed water ran through the bottom of the cavern, beneath the rocks and on; out to where the river flowed to the sea. But what he saw was not nearly strong enough to form the river they had followed, he walked back towards the far wall and stopped short.

Perfectly round and crystal clear a pool rimmed with stone sat just before the wall, looking into it Jorah tried to guess how deep it was, but he could not see the bottom. Moving to the side his eyes were drawn to the wall, it was a well-preserved section, he wondered what this building had been. He felt warm air at his back and shifted to find both dragons were climbing down onto the platform, a second later he was launched forward, tumbling headlong into the pool.

Jorah plummeted down like a rock even as he began to churn his limbs; trying to propel himself back to the surface. But he made no progress and panic rose within him, kicking harder as he looked up to see the Khaleesi and both of her dragons looking down at him.

He needed air desperately, he had been swimming since he was a boy but no matter how hard he swam up the surface got no closer. His chest ached and he willed the mark there to be still, he did not have the strength to fight that as well.

…

Daenerys knelt by the pool, she could see him below the surface, but he had stopped trying to push himself up, loosening his sword instead; he could not seem to get free of it. She had been afraid when Drogon pushed him and yet as her hands rested on the cool stone, she felt something else; energy coursed through her.

The pool was pretty in a way, made of pale cut stone, even the dust and grime that had settled over time did not hide that. Death marred this place, but it had not destroyed this, this water flowed from here to the sea as a source of life. And yet the men of the shadow lands lived along the sea, carving out a life on water that they could not drink, sending the sons of their leaders to this place for power; power that forever marked them

Jorah looked up again, but he was not looking to her, he did not look like he was fighting and the dragons next to her made sounds of approval. And then he was drawing closer to the surface, as he broke through, gasping for air, the stone warmed under her hands; as though power pulsed there.

Jorah placed his hands on the sides, pulling himself over and trying to catch his breath. He no sooner rose then Drogon tried to push him in again; snarling when he sat down rather than allow himself to be shoved back in. She looked at the man currently glaring at her dragon, the stone had cooled as he climbed out, there was power in this place but perhaps it was not hers to harness.

"There are runes on the walls of the pool." Jorah panted, his eyes never leaving the dragons who were crowding him; if he stood Daenerys suspected one or both would try again. "They go as far down as I can see."

"The dragons built this place, the last true dragons; or maybe the dragons' hearts." She murmured; she did not need to look back to the bones behind her; she could feel it. "They built it so that no man could ever destroy it. Men have torn down the walls, burned it and desecrated it; but it is still here. They cannot destroy it or use it."

Daenerys glanced to her dragons, both still watching Jorah intently and she placed her hand on Drogon's snout, pushing him back so she could kneel next to him. Her dragons could recognize it and she could feel it, but she wasn't sure she could use it either. The stone did not feel the same now, the power within it had stilled when Jorah climbed from the waters.

Magic required sacrifice, the men who had come here to build this place must have sacrificed much in their lifetime and ultimately their lives; they must have had unwavering conviction in their choice. Clearly it was not blood that harnessed that power but if it were words or potions, she knew she would never know its secrets; she knew no spells. No, she had followed a call she felt on her life; a tale told to her in riddles.

A tale of magic, but not one she had been raised on. Once her brother had loved to be told the tales of dragon lords and their power, but her tale was not of the power of men. It was of a dragons' heart and guardians, a connection between man and beast that had been severed many centuries ago. Only Bran Stark could see back to what that bond had been, it was not spoken of it the legends today.

But her dragons leaned over them, and she could sense their impatience, they craved the answers of this place and yet focused only on the man beside her. Soaked to the bone and still eyeing her children warily Jorah was rubbing his chest again.

"I need you to trust me." She murmured, reaching for his hand; and his belt. "I need you to believe that this is right."

"Khaleesi." He whispered, questions rising in his eyes though he did not move as she took his dagger.

"There is a cost for magic, always, every man claims his is right and yet another claims another way; another sacrifice is better. You are the dragons' sacrifice." She held his hand tightly as she stood, if he refused, she might never know; if he fought, she would never overpower him.

He did not pull away but he did not rise with her, and she felt tension ripple through her; her dragons growled low in their throats. Daenerys knew she walked a fine line, and she knew she might be wrong; but it was too great a chance not to take. Jorah was silent and as she shifted the blade in her hand, she hesitated; she feared what it would mean if her offering was wrong.

Jorah did not help her, and blue eyes were hard as he watched her with that knife, he didn't see what she did. She had seen the pain in him when she touched Nahyan, he had not felt the dragon's anger in that moment, he could not feel their fear now.

The dragons, her children knew the past, they knew the suffering caused when their heart fled one way and their guardian the other and Daenerys could look back upon it in her own life. In childhood, in Mereen and in the past year when her goal was not the dragon's call; in the times her guardian was not by her side. Her magic relied upon his in some way, and not only for protection; though it might matter that he'd offered that. He'd offered it and given it, even unto death. But the grave had not held him.

She had rotated his shoulder, holding his hand above the pool she cut deeply across his palm; letting the blood drip into the water. A muscle in his jaw clenched but Daenerys felt her reaction with more force; something inside her relaxed and her dragons eased back.

Jorah's hand slid back, and he shifted next to her, rising to stand beside her as she watched a drop of blood fall endlessly through the water. Tumbling down, illuminating characters she could not read as it went, though it grew no smaller. And suddenly it exploded into a face, a dragon's snout filled the pool; rushing up at them.

Gasping Daenerys jumped back, feeling Jorah's arms slide around her, but as they tumbled back her dragons leaned over the pool. For a moment they watched the dragons staring down with rapt attention; it was Jorah who climbed to his feet first.

Hand resting on his sword he eased forward to look into the waters and she saw surprise cross his face before he offered her his hand; the cut there still raw and sore. She rose and leaned over the pool, laying her hands upon the stone again and found it warm; looking into the deep charcoal eyes of a pure black dragon.

Only the slight ripple of the water hinted that it was an image and not a creature trapped within the pool; as its jaws opened a scene poured out. Men standing around a pool of black water, behind them they held others bound in chains. Men, women and even children, and as they watched one was drawn forward and slain; as her body fell Daenerys saw the mark.

The dragon's mark was inked upon her skin until blood obscured it, her body floating in that pool, and as the scene faded the dragon's head shrunk just a little; she could see clear water around it now. Dragons soared across a great sea, laying waste to cities as its people were led away in chains, and then on a sunrise a lone ship sailed West as dragons flew into the sun. The scene spun before them and returned to that pool, now red with blood before the dragon's image dissolved.

For a long moment they were both silent, and Daenerys shifted to see her dragons resting with their snouts pressed to Jorah's back. The man looked uneasy, but he did not move, and when she reached out, he took her hand; squeezing it for a moment. "How did you know?"

"You gave your life to save mine." There was no greater sacrifice in this world, had she remained alone on that battlefield her dragons would have come for her and the thousands of dead might have overwhelmed them; but even they would not have reached her in time. "Bran told me it is not lifeblood, potions or even special words that pay for magic. I don't think true magic can be bought."


	15. Chapter 15

Jorah flexed his hand, she had cut deep into his palm, but he had applied pressure to slow the bleeding, it had worked well, and blood did not run from the wound. He could sense the Khaleesi's excitement and Jorah could admit that he wanted to know more as well.

Taking a steady breath, he dipped his hand into the water, swirling it around before withdrawing it. This time they watched the dragon rush up to meet them, but as it's jaws opened, he was very aware of the living dragons standing directly behind him; their breath hot against his back.

The dragon within the pool was different, its skin and scales were both jet black, but this time its snout opened to fill less than half the pool. His gut clenched as he recognized the island on which he had been raised being settled, and they both saw the marks upon some of them.

When the dragon shifted and opened its jaws again Jorah recognized this place, watching the images of the people building this stronghold. They watched the men and women work with the dragons raising these walls, several carved the stones that he had seen within the pool, it had been the focus of this place.

But the wall behind the pool was different in the image; there was a small chamber. Jorah glanced up at it as the image changed, the dragon's jaws shrinking again. Another was sacrificed into the dark pool and those who stood above peered into the black water; there was a desperation in their faces as they watched the body sink.

Again, the image dissolved, and Jorah rose, but the Khaleesi stayed where she was her eyes looking into the depths of the water. When she finally looked up her eyes were full of sadness. "They didn't flee to start again, they left to save the dragons. To save their children from being enslaved to the dragon lords."

"And they succeeded." He whispered, knowing she was hurt by what men and women had done hundreds of years before her birth; things she could not change. "Khaleesi, you are the champion they chose."

He shifted carefully to the side, eyeing Drogon who followed him closely; he had no desire to go swimming again. But when he had some space, he moved to examine the wall behind the pool, in both the ornate chamber he assumed had been in Valyria with black waters and the one he had seen being built here there had been an alcove behind the pool.

Jorah ran his fingers along the old stone, he could not tell if a section had been added or not; suddenly he was knocked to the side. Sliding across the stone Jorah winced as he pushed himself up on his injured hand; his eyes met the Khaleesi's a moment before a branch of fire hit the wall he had been examining.

Rock cracked under the heat of the flame, but the wall held, the dragons hit it again and again. He had seen their flames melt metal and make stone crumble, but even with their best efforts they were struggling to break through that wall. Getting to his feet Jorah rounded to stand beside the Khaleesi who silently watched her children work.

Finally, the section the dragons had charred crumbled to the stone floor, revealing shelves of bones. The Khaleesi sighed, eyes falling to the ground in dismay as he started forward. They had disturbed the final resting place of a few who had built this place, but he doubted the dead would mind; not with what they had done in life. No, he suspected these people were entombed here for a reason, perhaps the magic within their bones was a part of what had protected this place for so long.

Peering into one of the slots he saw a scull, the person had been placed in feet first, but before he could reach in the Khaleesi did; resting her palm on the old bone. Her sad eyes looked to him. "There is still strength in him; it is their strength people come here to abuse."

Jorah frowned, watching as she knelt to touch the bones of each who had been laid to rest gently and almost reverently. This was the memorial those who had known them in life had bestowed upon them, he did not know the purpose of this grave, it did not feel right to disturb it. But he thought of what they had seen in the North, the dead rising under the command of a magic force that brought only death; perhaps there was a reason.

"They served the dragons, let your dragons send them to rest." Jorah murmured, he had done far less for the dragons and his Queen had offered him such an honor; he heard the dragons making low sounds in their throats.

He knew those sounds were contentment and something told him they knew it needed to be done; just as they had known he and the Khaleesi should see this. She nodded and reached in, gently lifting one of the skulls, as she carried it out the dragons moved so they sat facing each other; the stone between them clear. Gently the Khaleesi set the skull on the platform, and turned back, Jorah set about helping her move the bones out to where the dragons waited.

Reaching into the middle slot his hand struck something hard, not a bone and far to broad to be any sort of weapon. His fingers explored it until he found the edges, forcing his upper body into the tight space to get a grip on it; trying to pull it forward.

Made of solid steel, it had been discolored with age but was not rusted, it was a small chest. They both paused to look at it, but as they turned back to their original task the first fat drop of rain fell. And as they lay the last of the bones on the stone it began to rain harder.

The Khaleesi stood beside her dragons, resting a hand on Drogon's wing as she gave the command. "Dracarys."

Fire scorched the old bones, immediately turning them to ash as a great clap of thunder broke the sky. He shifted uneasily, but he saw a soft smile on the Khaleesi's face and followed her gaze to where the pool shimmered with light, flickering as the ripples of the rain rolled out; and the water took a greener tinge, like that of a pond.

Rain came in sheets and the dragons tipped their snouts up as though enjoying it for a moment before they took flight; soaring through the stormy skies. The Khaleesi came to him, her eyes bright with tears, but that soft smile on her face; her arms wrapped around him and she held him tight as Jorah felt the tension in his chest relax.

…

She knew, she felt it as she whispered the command, the spirits of the men bound to their magic released in her dragons' flames. And as the rain fell harder her own dragons lifted off in celebration Daenerys went to the man who still looked worried.

"They are celebrating with their ancestors." Her dragons danced in the stormy skies as thunder rolled and lightning arced through the clouds. She held him tight, his magic had strengthened hers this day and together they had done a good thing.

Daenerys had seen the power fade from that mystical pool and knew this place would no longer have magic to be abused, its purpose had been served and she would not let another place such as this be needed. There were still many secrets they needed to understand, but they had made a start today; and knew far more than they did yesterday.

The dragons had weakened as their masters experimented with sorcery; their magic weakened as they sacrificed their own guardians, unable to unlock the secrets they wished to know. Daenerys knew where their answers would be, and with the help of her guardian she would unlock the secrets they could not; but she would do it with the dragons' magic.

She leaned into the strength of the man who stood with her and after a time she felt his hands come to rest against her back; Daenerys could not think of a place she had ever felt safer. Jorah was not just a warrior who would defend her with a sword, his magic was different, as though he could read the magic of others and their intent.

He had sensed the magic of this place, and he had felt Nahyan's magic as well, but something within him had known there was a way to destroy the magic of this place without harming the child. Or perhaps he had only wanted to save a child's life, either way when her temper rose, and it had been so hard to see anything but the evil that boy could bring Jorah had been a firm voice of reason. There would be more, there was more for both of them to know and as the rains poured down, she tipped her face up to his. "We need to take the dragons home, back to where it began."

"I do not think we can fly Khaleesi." He shifted, letting her go, though Daenerys kept her arms around him though she followed his gaze. "I can't think of a way to secure that chest to either dragon."

"We need it." And she didn't dare open it in the rains, whatever had been sealed away in there had been precious enough to bury with those men.

"It will take longer, but we can ride to Asshai and find a ship that will take us West, from there buy a boat to take into the Smoking Sea; I doubt we will find a captain willing to pass through it." Jorah murmured.

When she nodded, he hefted the chest and headed around the platform with it, moving cautiously as the storm continued. Daenerys took one last look and then crossed to the dragon's skull once more; she couldn't help but wonder if her own children would ever grow so big. She wanted to see all that her children were capable of and she wanted to see them in their proper place in this world; perhaps her dreams would reveal what that would look like.


	16. Chapter 16

They rode through the tall grass, as the heavy rains soaked them to the bone, but she knew the rain would also keep most close to their homes and that would be easier on Jorah; if there was a way to avoid a fight, they would take it. One of the horses was carrying the chest and their pack, she had watched Jorah debate how to secure the awkward load.

"Ride with me and lead the horse." She offered, kicking a foot from the stirrup for him to mount.

After a moment he nodded and putting a foot in the stirrup, reaching around her to get hold of the saddle to swing himself up. She felt him shifting behind her as they started out and she leaned back against his chest, they were both soaked; but at least it was not cold.

They headed spent the rest of that day travelling West, Daenerys kept her reins loose and by noon they came to a muddy track; a road rarely used. Following it was easy and her eyes roamed the skies, watching her dragons soar through the clouds; they were enjoying themselves.

It took two days to reach the port in Asshai and they sold the horses soon after arriving. Jorah arranged passage on a ship bound for Volantis, she was not willing to wait for a vessel bound for somewhere farther east given none of the Captains could tell her when they would be going. Dragon's Bay was no longer a popular destination as any caught with slaves on board would be punished under her own laws; Daenerys had smiled to herself at that, her new ways had stuck in those cities.

When they were allowed to board, she stood on the deck and watched her dragons fly West through the stormy skies, the dragons did not intend to wait for the rains to clear. But she and Jorah had to, the ship would not leave port until the storm passed; the Captain hoped to leave tonight.

In the small cabin she changed into dry clothes and used a basin of warm water to wash off some of the dirt from the road. But her eyes were drawn back to chest Jorah had set on the bench beside the lower bunk; she wanted to open it.

Jorah knocked before he entered, she knew he had been out exploring the ship but was just as eager to wash up and get into dry things. Daenerys settled with her back to him, trying to detangle the wet mess her braid had become. She had woven it into a single braid to keep it neat and out of her face, but water and time had pulled curls free and matted others together.

"Khaleesi." Jorah murmured, she turned to find him watching her as he hung his old shirt to dry, wearing a fresh shirt in a soft blue; the pale color helped him stay cool in the heat they would live in. "May I help you?"

With a nod she shifted so he could stand behind her, his hands gentle as he began to comb through the messy curls. He took his time, working the worst of the knots apart with his fingers, more than once she felt the back of his hands brush lightly against her neck or shoulder; it was soothing to have him close. She was surprised when he carefully divided her hair into sections and began to weave it into a plait.

"Where did you learn how to do that?" She asked, offering him the leather tie to secure it, watching in the foggy mirror as he let it rest against the small of her back.

"I grew up on the sea, my father taught me to braid rope and hide." He murmured, offering the comb back to her, the braid was simple but neat and precise; he had done it much faster than she would have been able to.

"Thank you." Daenerys told him, her eyes sliding to the chest again. Though the bunk and sleep called to her she had been waiting impatiently to be able to see what had been sealed within that chest so long ago. "Do you think we will be able open it?"

"The rain hasn't helped us there." He sighed, turning to look at the old steel container with a look of frustration; she knew he had tried earlier.

Jorah knelt before it and she watched from the bunk as he took one of his daggers to the seam. The moisture had affected the metal and along with time it made the chest reluctant to reveal its secrets. She saw him shifting the blade carefully, rising to put his weight into it; slowly gaining a little.

When he jerked, sliding forward as the lid fell back, she realized it had taken most of his body weight to gain leverage; Daenerys leaned over his shoulder. Her imagination had been running away with what might be inside, and a small part of her had been hoping for a dragon egg. As much as she loved her children now, watching how they grew she wished she could watch them grow again; she wished she could turn back time and watch Viserion flying with his brothers again.

Instead she pulled a piece of oil cloth from the top to reveal the dark leather cover of a book. There was no title but as she lifted it she realized lines had been etched into the thick material; in the light from the lamp she recognized the symbol. While Jorah lifted a second, and possibly older volume from the chest Daenerys laid the first open on the bed beside her and sighed.

"Its not in the common tongue, or Valyrian." She murmured, unable to hide her disappointment as she looked at the neat rows of unfamiliar characters that had been carefully recorded.

Jorah was eyeing the cover of the book he held, it had no title either but the mark upon it was proudly emblazoned, the dark leather underlain with a lighter hide to create the beautiful dragon in flight. He set his aside, leaning over the one she had opened and coughed slightly; she turned to see confusion in his eyes.

_"As the consequences of blood and fire draw near, and the fury of the first dragons rises, we, the last of us, the ones true to the dragons' service turn our efforts to ensuring the survival of the old way._

_It is not a choice made lightly, but the blood of our brothers and sisters cries to the beasts they loved, the beasts they offered their strength to birth into this world; and to the bones of those who now heat it. We know there is no other way. Man will destroy the dragons, their magic; they no longer care of the damage they do."_ Jorah's voice lilted softly as he spoke, she could hear his own curiosity at the words he read.

"What language is that? Where did you learn it?" Daenerys demanded, she knew he spoke Dothraki and being the son of a great house, he would have been well educated; but he had never spoken of learning any other languages.

"I don't know." Jorah muttered, she had seen the confusion and surprise in his face a few moments before, but now she could tell he was reading on; Daenerys tried to quiet her own frustration.

"Will you read it to me?" She asked quietly, perhaps in time the knowledge would pass to her as well; she believed what he said.

_"They mix the weak and filthy magic of blood with ours, strengthening it with the dragons' offerings; not caring that they are destroying themselves and the beasts they claim to love. For dragons who lose their guardian will lose their heart and their lives in time."_ Jorah paused to turn the page and she recognized that a new entry had begun, it was not a text as much as a record of some sort. _"In the shimmering waters we have long revealed to our dragons their strength, and willingly offered blessing to their power. Now our waters are dark with the stink of death, but even the dragon lords realize those waters are our salvation. They are the dragons' salvation."_

…

He lay awake that night in the cramped upper bunk, beneath him he could hear the Khaleesi's steady breathing, she was exhausted; but curiosity had kept her holding on until they opened the chest. Jorah knew he should sleep, the time on the ship might be the last reprieve he had for awhile, he knew all to well the dangers that would await them in Old Valyria.

Well, perhaps he knew one of the dangers, what they had uncovered might reveal even more. But Old Valyria had long been the grey scale colony for those exiled from their homes as the disease claimed their bodies and then their minds. They lived among the ruins and Jorah did not know if the ranged throughout the island chain or stayed close to the edges where they had been abandoned.

Finally, he drifted to sleep, the rocking of the hull was soothing for now as they moved along the coast. The next several days were easy sailing, the storms had blown through and the waters calmed soon after. The dragons returned, soaring overhead while they stood on deck, as though they had come back to check on their mother.

But most of their time was spent in the cramped little cabin, he lay the book across his lap and read as the Khaleesi sat next to him, leaning close as she listened. They had started with the newer volume, but the first, with the dragon's mark engraved on the front seemed to be the older one; Jorah had skimmed a few pages of it.

When it came time to begin a new book, they had selected a much more discrete cover, he wondered if that spoke to what was unfolding at that time. The books seemed to be a record of some sort, of events and observations made from the periphery,and at first he had wondered if they had been recorded by a maester.

One afternoon while the Khaleesi slept, the nightmares had returned with a vengeance the past several nights Jorah opened the older volume. She was interested in the last entries, trying to understand what had happened at the end. Yet it seemed that the more they read the more she dreamed, and the dreams were not gentle, last night she had slept with her head in his lap, waking in terror more than once.

But he was curious about his own connection to the dragons and he knew that had to date back to those who first settled Bear Island; perhaps they had come as the First Men warred with the Children of the Forest. Jorah had always considered himself a Northerner and as far as he knew no one from his family had ever married into Valyrian blood. But that had happened thousands of years ago, perhaps before the height of the Valyrian Freehold; somehow those exiles had claimed the small Northern island for their own.

Yet he was surprised that the story had not been handed down through the house, when he was a boy his aunt used to tell him the stories of their ancestors. Of their warriors and battles, along with the legends every boy in the North grew up hearing; he had only heard of dragons when she whispered stories about the doom and their king's house. But as Jorah read the first pages of the old volume, easily reading a language he had never learned; it began to make a little more sense.

_The ways of the guardian are already forgotten, ignored by men who believe their pure blood will bind them to the creatures of myth. And yet they wonder why their magic wanes._ _They may trace their blood to the dragons' heart, they may be able to mount the great beasts and ride the winds; but death will never call to the dragons' power. Not in the way life does, not in the way the strength of a warrior will bring their powers to earth._

_No, the dragons they hatch of death struggle for life, each shocked into life as theirs is bought harshly. Without a guardian the dragon will be slow to grow; their magic bound to death without the protection to soar free. But to admit the guardians power is a threat the dragon lords fear._

_Already the dragon lords claim their blood will bond them to the beasts of their names, the truth will be forgotten before my life is over; their high tales are already told in the lands beyond the freehold. Yet when man strays too far from the old way, darker magic will rise, it will destroy and then the dragons shall choose another; for the spirit of the dragon will never die. The dragon lords believe in blood, but blood does not choose; the dragons do._


	17. Chapter 17

She was happy to be out in the market he thought, they had docked in Volantis last night and already purchased a small craft to take down into the Smoking Sea. But if they intended to remain in the ruins it would do to have a few supplies, and while Jorah was comfortable managing the small craft, he'd like to make the trip in full daylight; they needed all the visibility they could get on the foggy waters.

He had cut through the outskirts of the ruined city with Tyrion a few years before, but something told him they would have to journey into the heart of the ancient islands. It would be worth taking some supplies with them as he didn't know how long she hoped to stay.

As the Khaleesi bartered over a few things he eyed the next stall, easing over to purchase a large section of canvas. Shifting the thick roll of material under his arm Jorah paused, feeling the mark on his chest prickle, quickly he returned to the Khaleesi's side; his eyes scanning the street.

"Do we have everything then?" The Khaleesi asked, taking her purchase.

"We will leave in the morning Khaleesi." Jorah murmured, his eyes still roaming the stalls and people milling about. The mark was uncomfortable, but it did not ache or get worse as they walked.

They had rented rooms for the night; it was above a little inn and he eyed those already settled in to drink but none seemed particularly interested in them. Jorah added what he had purchased to his pack and paused over the chest.

They had spent days pouring over the book while they were at sea, but they were less than halfway through. He enjoyed reading, and in truth he didn't mind reading aloud; but he was not fast. And when he had a bit of his own time, he read from the first book. Neither book was dated, and the entries were impossible to reference; the events he could identify he had only heard of as legends from long ago.

The book had been written as the Valyrian freehold grew, only a few generations after the dragons had been bonded to the shepherds of Valyria; but it was a story he had never heard before. And something drew Jorah in, he eased down on the bed and lifted the old volume into his lap.

_They like to believe in blood, they like to believe that being the sons of the first dragon heart will keep the dragons true to them. They tell stories of great men who bent the great beasts to their will, brave men who defeated dragons and rode them; but that is not the truth. No, the dragons chose. And they will choose again._

_Deep within the flames a mountain exploded, and the first eggs hatched in the heat; born in the great fires as their ancestors, long forgotten, offered the sacrifices to call them to life. For generations after men lived in fear and any dragons found were killed; too small yet to defend themselves. But a few survived and in time they grew, in time there were more._

_But they were hunted for trophies, hides and magic. Men came from far and wide to hunt the mystical beasts, sorcerers ground their eggs into powders for potions and burned the dragon's bones in fires; watching the shapes dance. Yet the dragons that survived grew, they became harder to catch and harder to kill._

_The first dragon heart was called Jaida, born when the young were vulnerable, and they were the ones that were hunted. Fated from birth, called by the whispers of dragons lost to the world she was the fire and mystery of their spirit; for what the brave men feared she loved. For she was fated to the egg of amber hatched by the blood of her guardian._

…

The smoke rose from the sea long after the fog from the morning burned off, and the islands rose from the mist. Daenerys stared in awe at the ruins and the jungle rising, appearing from the water as it surrounded them, she had heard of Valyria but never seen it, glancing up when the dragons passed above them.

Drogon and Rhaegal must have seen all of it by now, they did not stay with the boat but soared out above the islands, disappearing off into the smoke to reappear from somewhere else. The dragons dipped low into the smoke as though they enjoyed the warm air.

She squirmed in Jorah's shirt, wrapped around her and carefully tied to cover her from wrist to throat, she still felt warm in the light fabric. But they took no chances, Jorah's sword was unsheathed, leaned beside him; and she could see the tension in him. She knew he could have that weapon in hand and ready in less than a heart beat.

This was where Jorah had been infected, and where he might have been sent to live out his life; except she knew he would not have lived like that. But they didn't know how many did, waiting for the disease to take their bodies as well as their minds. She saw Jorah shifting uneasily as they turned from the sea, down into the ruins of the ancient city.

Suddenly the dragons passed above them again, this time turning towards the arches of a ruined wall; fire bursting from their jaws. She gasped as men fell in the dragons' flames, and then she saw them, standing in the arches and against the rocks ahead of them; so many stone men.

Glancing back, she saw Jorah's hand wrap around the sword. "Khaleesi, can you shift back here?"

Daenerys nodded, easing back to put her hand on the rudder, holding it the way he showed her. Jorah moved forward to find his footing, his eyes up as Drogon swooped low, knocking one of the men into the water ahead of them. One appeared from nowhere, trying to climb over the side before Jorah threw him back into the sea; but more followed.

She tried to keep the rudder steady as Jorah fought to keep the boat from being swamped; trying to keep the stone men off them. The dragons helped, staying closer as they sailed into the heart of Old Valyria. And then, as though they passed through a barrier of some kind the stone men fell back and they passed into calm water.

Jorah lowered his sword; she saw him sigh before he looked back. "Are you alright Khaleesi?"

She nodded, they'd hardly even made it into the boat thanks to him and her sons. "Did they touch you?"

"No, but we will burn these clothes anyway." She saw him relax then, but he did not lay down his sword, or take off the leather gloves that had to be far too warm in this heat. "We'll hold to this…"

The boat lurched to a stop, throwing them forward and she slammed into Jorah, she heard his groan as they hit the bench. He lifted her gently, shifting around her, a dagger in his hand as looked around; looking over the side. She felt dampness against her skin, she knelt in water now; it bubbled up through the boards.

"Did I go too close to the shore?" She sat up as he moved forward, looking for where the water was seeping into the bottom.

"No." He murmured, leaning over the side again to look in the water again, Daenerys noticed him rub his chest. "No, we are deep in the ruins now, we've hit stone."

He said nothing of the mark but shifted out into the water to examine the boat, his wince was not a good sign. But he maneuvered the boat over the underwater barrier, finding a low spot and pulling it over and they made shore on the other side.

There was ruined stone everywhere, moss had grown over it and plants grew through it. Jorah unloaded the boat and turned it on its side to examine the damage, but his eyes were roaming the landscape behind them. The dragons circled above but they did not rest.

"Should we make camp here?" She asked quietly, his hand roaming to his chest again; Daenerys frowned as he said nothing of it.

"I don't know how much farther we can get tonight. This may be fixable, but I don't know how far we can go on the water Khaleesi. This place, there will be more of that." He still knelt by the small boat, but he was right. Valyria had once been a vast city, built up among the flames and connecting the islands. Now that city lay in ruin, on land and beneath the waters, and they had to find its secrets.


	18. Chapter 18

He looked over the scene before him, or the scenes, and struggled to understand it; as though he were in two places at once. Jorah recognized one of the places, he had stood there and run his hand through the waters; in those waters he had seen the place built. And the other was similar, but he had seen the chamber; only that pool had been full of black water.

A man stood above the pool for a long time, then knelt beside it and Jorah watched as he opened his palm the blood dripped into the water and it shimmered to life; and the man climbed in. Disappearing beneath the waters for a long moment before resurfacing and reaching over the side; tucking a dragon egg under his arm before disappearing again. Three times the man disappeared beneath the water.

But in the other image it was a woman, working by the light of candles and she dove over and over again, a man passing her each egg. Rising from the waters Jorah watched as she pushed herself over the edge, glancing back at the waters again. A dragon rose up after her and closed its jaws; its amber eyes lost their glow. He stared as the woman stepped into the man's arms, tears running down her face they walked from the chamber.

The image spun away from him, and Jorah's chest clutched as he watched the woman led away in a long row of slaves chained together; deep in a pit she took own life. And he watched sorcerers stand above that pool, desperation in their eyes as they whispered of the dragons, unruly and dangerous, laying few eggs and even fewer of those would hatch for them; no matter the sacrifices offered. It was in that chamber, with shadows dancing off the wall that they killed man, woman and child; each time lifeblood hit the water it became a little darker. Around them others chanted, their eyes desperately searching the surface, but nothing emerged.

Jorah woke with a start, breathing hard as the dream flooded through him; but as he started to shift, he noticed two sets of glowing eyes directly above him. And he swallowed hard, the light pressure from one of the dragons resting its chin against his midsection was unsettling, both watching him. For such large creatures they could move quietly at times, when he lay down both dragons had settled just past the camp. His chest ached and slowly he moved to rub the mark; turning his head to where the Khaleesi slept.

He did not dream, not like this; he never had. Jorah took a steadying breath and put a hand on Drogon's snout, pushing him back to sit up. Neither dragon was eager to back off, and Drogon nudged his shoulder none too gently as he stood. Walking the short distance down to the water he washed his face in the cool water.

Jorah tried to sort out the images he had seen and to fit them into a history he did not know. Had the eggs placed in each of the pools remained there? They couldn't be the source of their magic; blood had called each to life before the eggs were placed within. A dragon had already lived in each. But did the eggs remain there? If so, had they left something very valuable behind in the Shadow lands.

Suddenly he looked up, something made the hair on the back of his neck stand up and reaching for his dagger he shifted; eyes searching the shadows. But across the waterway eyes looked back at him from a face disfigured by scabs and wounds; the face of a child. It made no move to cross to him, only sitting by the water watching; none of the other stone men had followed them so far into the ruins. But as the mark on his chest tightened the healed wound on his palm began to itch.

For a time, he sat there, looking back at the child so afflicted that he could not tell if it was a girl or boy; but very young either way. How had such a little child been infected? Had the parents been made to abandon them here or had they cast them aside believing there was no hope for the little one? Jorah swallowed hard, a child could not fully understand it and to go through such a thing; he knew all to well what it was to watch flesh turn to stone. Only he'd been given another chance.

…

Jorah looked worried she thought, watching as he poured water over the fire and glanced to the sky. Daenerys finished binding the pack and glanced back at the knight who was shifting the boat back into the water. "Isn't there more debris in the water?"

"Probably, but we are harder to attack on the water." Jorah lifted the chest back into boat and then reached for the pack she had set aside. "I've patched it for now."

"We will sail further then?" She asked, watching to see if his hand reached for the mark on his chest; was it bothering him? Something had him on edge this morning, but she did not push him yet; being here might stir more personal memories for him.

As Jorah scanned the camp again, she climbed into the boat as he crossed back, wading into he water as he pushed off; easily vaulting in as the current caught them. He did not move to the rudder but took one of the oars and let the water carry them forward; using the oar to check the depth at the front of the boat.

Hearing the screeches above she looked up as the dragons' shadows passed over the boat; her children were happy here. They soared through the sky and dipped low into the steam rising off the water, from their backs she knew the whole of this place would be visible; they had already seen the ruins of this city. Yet she had a different view here, she was seeing a place that had been feared for generations; Daenerys did not feel afraid.

She could see the ruins now, this place had once been great, even the stone overgrown with vines revealed that; but the doom had come for it and it had fallen. Once thousands of dragons had been here, from this city a freehold had been built; conquering half the known world. A civilization built upon magic, wealth, and, Daenerys thought bitterly; slavery.

Jorah used the oar to keep the boat off shattered rock as they passed the base of a huge mountain; a huge cavern gaped in its side and rock poured from its mouth down into the water. Had it been one of the famed Valyrian mines? Thousands of slaves had died deep in those gold mines over the centuries as the common folk and soldiers from the nations the Valyrians conquered were taken deep beneath the flames to work or die. Slaves would not be forced to die within the flames again, not in her lifetime and not while her dragons lived Daenerys vowed privately.

Finally, they came from the passage out to where the waters forked around an even larger island. But through the mists she could see that this island was different, the waters were clearly blocked by crumbled stone in either direction, but it looked as though steps led up from the water.

The dragons swooped overhead and circled low to land ahead of them as Jorah glanced back at her; Daenerys nodded. Jorah paddled a little guiding the boat towards the steps and then lay it down to swing himself over the side. She eagerly eased forward to follow him.

"Hold on Khaleesi." Jorah murmured, standing in water nearly up to his waist, pulling the boat up until the edge rested on a step. Finally, he reached out, and when she stepped close placed his hands on her hips and carrying her until he could set her on dry ground.

"Thank you." She did not pull away, looking over the great open island ringed by crumbled stone; something about this place made her body stir. Uneasy excitement coiled within her belly.

"Khaleesi do you want to explore here?" He asked, stepping back and reaching into the boat for his sword.

She nodded, nature had attempted to reclaim this place, but plants had not sprouted through the stone as it had in other areas, moss had grown in patches and vines climbed over the crumbled pillars; but the majority of the damage was in the craters made by falling stone. Picking their way between vast jagged pillars and crumbling stone, Daenerys traced her fingers along stone dulled by time and softened with green moss, she eyed the dragons who rested upon perches of pillars that were still partially upright; was it their energy she sensed?

This was different than the place they had seen in the Shadow lands, there was no sign that anyone had been here in hundreds of years, the destruction was undisturbed by man as the Smoking Sea poured mist over this ruined place. Was this the most central point? What was here that she needed to see?

Stone crumbled and slid over the platform as Drogon climbed down from his perch, striding towards her; dipping his head to offer his shoulder to her. Daenerys eyed her son for a moment, considering his offer before climbing up onto his back, but as she turned to ask Jorah to join her Drogon launched himself up into the sky; and the excitement she had felt raced faster within her.


	19. Chapter 19

Jorah watched Drogon take flight though Rhaegal stayed upon his perch; watching him. He continued to cross the platform, taking in the damage this ancient place had sustained. The structure had fallen in on itself, stone pillars had crumbled into the waterway and across the great platform.

He circled a great fallen column and eyed the ornately decorated ruins with moss growing over it. There had been bridges between the islands on either side, though crumbled in the middle Jorah could see what the great structures had once been reaching for an upper level; he climbed the steps to it.

And found himself looking out over the ruins of the city, he stood in only the threshold of this great place. Jorah could see the great mountains of the flames which legend said had spewed molten rock and fire hot enough to fall dragons from the sky and melt the great halls and buildings constructed around them. All lay in ruin and overgrown with jungle, but Jorah could see what this place had been, and privately he wondered where the great dragons of this place had lived.

Drogon flew with the Queen out across the ruins, in the ruins he knew they would find rest, and in the seas, there would be food; perhaps in time they could bring out sheep or cattle for them. But where had the great creatures lived when this place had been a city? Certainly, the dragons flew above the islands, but the even the dangerous mountains of the flames had been mined in the great age of Valyria.

Jorah walked along the old platform and turned back to find Rhaegal watching him; spotting a partially scorched structure. And as he picked his way down to it, he felt the mark on his chest clenched. Even with the moss that crept up the columns and blackened brittle outer sides, Jorah could see the strange characters carved into the stones; he moved closer trying to read them. But the mark on his chest clenched harder and turning back he found himself encircled by the great pillars.

Frowning he reached out, laying his hands on the old stones, solid columns rose all around him. Irritation rose within him as he circled, carefully searching for a weakness; this was certainly magic of some sort. He wondered if it was similar to that which had trapped him within the pool of the Shadow lands.

…

Drogon had swooped and soared through the ruins, showing her the outer edges where stone men peered up at them and the various channels, rivers and rapids that wove through the islands. Her son showed her great ruins, some reclaimed by nature, crumbled and blackened while a few survived; sections still towering above the ground.

She saw the arches of old halls and on some there were great faded scenes of the past, Daenerys tried to study them, but her dragon did not pause long to let her examine them. When the dragon returned her to the first great platform where she had left Jorah, she could not spot him thought Rhaegal sat quietly on a great pillar laid across the floor.

"Jorah?" She called for him, the excited energy that gathered within her had a wild tinge to it but unable to see her friend something uneasy thrummed inside her. "Jorah!"

Both of her dragons watched her intently, as Drogon found himself a spot to rest Daenerys roamed the platform, climbing the steps to look out over the ruins she had just explored but Jorah was not there. He wasn't down by the boat either and panic tightened within her as the energy within her thrummed excitedly; something did not feel right here.

She called for Jorah again and as the day wore on Daenerys carefully explored the island, certain that Jorah would not have left her here. She looked for any sign of him, but she also took in the ruins; she had seen this place in her dreams and nightmares. But in her dreams this place was whole, the pale marble platforms and great stone columns rose; the shadows lit the great room.

This was where the black pool had been, this was where the high lords of Valyria had gathered and where their blood magic had destroyed the freehold their ancestors and dragons had built. This was the where the doom had fallen upon them, summoned by their own blood magic.

She had seen these halls in their glory, but now she could not see that central black pool; like the pool that Jorah's magic had called to live in the Shadow lands. What secrets did this place hold? Would the magic here still be strong enough to threaten him?

Pausing before a great fallen piece of stone she eyed her dragons; they were large enough to move the stones; but would it serve any purpose? None of the stone looked to have been moved, she had walked round and round the island and found nothing unstable; it had been centuries since the stones had moved.

…

He could hear the Khaleesi's cries, but his replies echoed off the columns and went unheard; given she kept calling for him. Jorah's frustration and anger rose as fear crept into his Queen's voice, he spent hours searching for a way out. He tried climbing but could not find a way to the top, nor could he find a weakness or the source of the magic.

Finally leaning back against the column, he lowered himself down to the floor, Jorah stared at the ancient characters carved into the rocks; he could not read most. Only a few were strangely familiar, like those of the old books they had found but someone had carved over most.

Noticing that the ground was damp Jorah ran his fingers over the stone, it was not cracked and cratered from impact many years ago but made of large smooth stone tiles. With the edge of his dagger Jorah worked to pry one free, shoving it aside to find water lapping beneath it.

He could smell the salt but dipped his fingers into it and raised them to his lips; it was saltwater from the waterway, and it was not stagnant. Jorah worked up another, and another after that until there was a hole wide enough for him to pass. For a long moment he considered his options.

Then lowered himself into the hole, took a deep breath and dove, the weight of his clothes and weapons pulling him down. Jorah opened his eyes in the dark water, feeling his way down, finding the smooth stones as the mark on his chest tingled oddly; the clutching pain had ceased.

His feet hit stone, but he felt a strange current pulling at him, the current tugged him East, but something called him West; the water even darker that way. Jorah let out a little air, knowing he only had so long to choose and he turned deeper.

His eyes straining in the darkness Jorah pressed on and felt the water change. Water, though black, became fresh and the salt no longer stung his cheeks and slowly he let out his breath; his chest ached, not from the mark but the desire to gulp in air.

Clawing his way forward he fumbled over something, exploring it with his hand he recognized the shape; and found more. The discovery pushed him on, pushed him upwards, he did not intend to leave his bones here; until his hands met stone.

Only as his hands raced along the edges, eyes straining to see against the black; he could feel water flowing towards him. As though the stone was not there and when Jorah thrust himself against it, he rushed through it; stone sealing behind him. Blackness consumed him entirely and Jorah found himself encircled by stone.

But his chest on fire, longing to gulp air he swam desperately for the surface unable to see anything in the darkness. The water around him warmed, and though dark he saw shimmering dots around him. Jorah broke the surface and gulped air as his hands found purchase on the stone, rock still blocked his way.

"Khaleesi!" Jorah shouted; his body heavy as he leaned against the side.

"Jorah?" There was desperation in the questioning voice that returned his call.

As Jorah searched for any light above him, the rock began to shift, and he sheltered his head as the great stone was rolled away. Rocks fell, striking him as light rushed over the water and Jorah sheltered his head; peering up to see Drogon's glowing eyes staring back at him.

He'd scarcely realized he'd been struck as he began to climb over the edge, the Khaleesi's small hands grasping at him, trying to pull him up and he slid from the water, trying to roll so he did not crush her. Jorah sighed, relaxing into the stone, thankful to be on solid ground; bitterly ignoring the mark on his chest.

"Are you alright?" She asked, her hands running over his shoulders; pushing wet hair from his face. He winced as he fingers found a sore spot. "Where were you?"

"Below the platform, there is a second pool but it is full of salt water; they are connected somehow." He murmured, trying to sit and the Khaleesi helped him; letting him lean against her.

"Only one was made by the guardians." The Khaleesi replied, confidence in her gaze; he hands never leaving his shoulders. "The dragon lords could not make another without their magic, they could not harness the dragon's magic without a guardian."

Jorah sat silently for a moment, before telling her what happened. As he spoke, he tried to shift himself upright, looking into the pool the dragon had uncovered. The Khaleesi did not let him go but her eyes were drawn to the waters as well. They had been black as tar when he had tried to surface, had stained his clothes black as well and he could see smears of it on her dress as well; but the waters were only murky now.

When he looked back at his Queen there was something in her eyes, and her hand had tightened around his upper arm. "What did you see?"

He nearly started to tell her it had only been black, but his mind returned to his dream from the other night. Perhaps it was not of black water and stone she needed to be told of, Jorah shifted to get a better look at the pool; no, she needed to hear of something else. "They put dragon eggs into that pool long ago, the Valyrians could not steal them; they destroyed themselves trying."


	20. Chapter 20

They made camp on that island; Jorah rigged up a small shelter; something told him this would be where they were staying. As the sun set, he watched the dragons take flight, they soared above the island but did not go far, dipping their wings to land in the mouth of one of the ruined mines; perhaps finding places for their own lairs.

Jorah moved to the Khaleesi's side as she unwrapped the cloth she had bound about her hair while it dried. After the adventure of that black pool they had made their way further inland to a freshwater stream; changing their clothes and washing up. He'd kept his back turned as she bathed and then waded into the water himself to wash the grime and salt from his skin.

She sat on the bank, wringing the water from her hair and wondering aloud about the people who had come before them; about what magic still lived here. Jorah had nodded and made quiet sounds as he listened, he acknowledged that there was magic in this world, he'd seen far too much to deny that; but he also sensed to be cautious of it. Even without the dragon's mark that seemed to live of itself, though it was little more than a brand upon his skin, he believed magic was largely unknown and unpredictable; and that could be dangerous. They stood in the very consequences of sorcery pushed too far, Valyria and its dragons had paid the price; the sea still smoked hundreds of years later.

And yet, dragons had returned to the world and given they seemed bent on haunting the Khaleesi's dreams and returned him from the grave; there had to be a reason. Settling to sit behind his Queen he carefully began to work his fingers through her long hair, gently detangling the knots as she wondered at how content her dragons seemed here.

He had sensed their mother's contentment in being here as well, even if it would be a difficult place to stay. Jorah let her talk, reminding himself not to pull too hard as he began the braid and worked quickly towards the ends. But as he finished the Khaleesi leaned back, resting her head against his shoulder.

"Is the mark bothering you again?" She asked quietly without looking back.

"I am aware of it." He answered carefully, he would like to say he was beginning to understand what it meant, the differences in how it reacted, but he was struggling to piece the meaning of it. He knew pain was tied to her, that could wake him from a dead sleep and become crippling; but it did a number of other things as well.

It could clench without causing pain and did so frequently, but at other times it only prickled as though heat was held just a little too close. It had felt tight all evening and as his eyes slid back to that murky pool it clenched as if recognizing where his eyes had landed; Jorah looked back to the woman who leaned into him.

"Is it more sensitive here?" The Khaleesi questioned, he sensed that she was trying to push carefully.

"Somewhat, but it has been active since it appeared." Since he'd come from that fire, he'd been discovering what that it meant, and it was not an easy thing to understand.

The Khaleesi had been raised on stories of the Targaryen's dragons and Old Valyria; she was confident in the existence of her own magic. She had believed in it enough to try to hatch the dragon eggs she had been given as decorations, to walk into the flames and years later to ride upon the back of the grown creatures.

Magic did not sit as easily with him, perhaps it was the stories he had been told as a boy or simply that it had not touched his own life until now; maybe it was a harder thing accept as a man. But he knew it was not something to be denied, and he would not deny the call he saw upon the Khaleesi. He had seen her come into her own as a ruler, and she was good; but there was something he could see awakening in her now.

And he knew his place was, and always had been, by her side; but it was more than that now. They could call it guardian, queens guard or sworn sword, he didn't care; but he feared what the mark upon his chest would do should he try to leave her. When the Khaleesi settled to sleep Jorah rose and roamed the great platform in the moonlight, watching it flicker across the water of the pool that had once been the center of this hall.

Jorah paused in front of it, the water had been black in his dream and in the images, he had seen upon the other pool; but now they were murky. Yet there was power within them, as he knelt the silver light glinted to reveal characters inscribed around the inner rim; and he knew them somehow.

And the runes ran deep beneath the waters, he assumed as deep as those in the other pool; he'd ended up swimming in both now. He knew that a young woman had laid dragon eggs within that pool, and later taking her own life in slavery; Jorah wondered if her death was to prevent her magic being used to obtain them.

Sliding his dagger from his belt he eyed the water and as he revealed the blade he felt the mark upon his chest tighten; energy raced from it. Jorah broke the skin of his palm, letting his blood drip into the water, reading the words again, beginning at the point in which he stood. _Forebearer. Defender. Champion. Warrior._

The waters swirled, shimmering before him, and Jorah took half a step back from the great amber dragon that raced to the surface. But it's jaws did not open to reveal a scene before him, instead the amber eyes fixed upon him as though in challenge; it was not one he wanted. Unsure of what to do and uneasy he knelt, running his fingers through the water, hoping it would reveal something; that he would have some sense of what to do.

And suddenly Jorah was tumbled into the waters again; a dark shadow rising behind him. He fell through the water, tumbling head over heels as runes glinted upon the stones in long columns. As though a true creature within the water he felt scales and was jostled from side to side; as though sliding along some great from; it took a moment to gain control and open his eyes.

Yet as he descended through the water Jorah saw the dragon beneath him and followed it down until the creature coiled about a clutch of eggs. Not the dull tones of the eggs that had first been returned from stone but bright, glittering as jewels between the deep amber scales. For a moment he could only stare, and as though he did not need air Jorah watched the dragon a moment; long enough to make it surge up at him again though it's jaws still did not open.

Hesitantly he reached for one of a sapphire blue, no sooner than he had a good grasp upon it, then the water surrounded him with a crushing pressure and, though he already held the egg he was pushed back and swum for the surface rather than fight it. Crawling from the water, gasping for air Jorah cradled the egg and rolled back to look at the pool to find the great dragon watching him in the moonlit pool.

Exhausted and soaked he stared for a moment at the amber dragon who looked back at him. Jorah swallowed uneasily, glancing down to the egg he held his mind returned to the clutch he had seen; protected by that great dragon.

Turning back to the shelter where his Queen slept quietly, he found the dragons sitting silently upon the ruins, they watched his every move but let him pass. And as Jorah ducked to enter the shelter, he considered what to do with it; it was far to valuable to leave out even for the night. Yet she slept so soundly he hated to wake her, too often dreams woke her in fright.

He thought of stories he had been told long ago by his aunt, every boy was told of dragons and Jorah knew one of how the Targaryens had been rumored to bind themselves to the great creatures; placing an egg in the cradle of each babe born. There had been no dragon eggs available to the house by the time Daenerys Stormborn had entered the world, but he remembered how she had kept the eggs she was gifted close to her and all three had hatched.

Jorah carefully lifted the blanket the Khaleesi had tucked herself within and lay the egg beside her. The beautiful egg was marred only where his broken skin had made contact, but he could not rub it away and after hundreds of years it seemed a small scar for it. Jorah looked at her, with that deep blue egg cradled to her chest, curling around it without waking, before he lay down himself.

What had that woman survived to dive so many times, to lay that clutch? Had she felt the pressure of that water surround her each time, watched the dragon move with her and push her back? Jorah had dove only once and yet as soon as he lay down his eyes begged to close. Or had she been the one to create those forces? To protect the treasures she hid, now precious to his dragon queen.


	21. Chapter 21

At first, she wasn't sure what woke her, the dreams had not been as disturbing tonight; only sad. Her dreams were showing her glimpses of the freehold's histories, built upon dragons and slavery made a few great houses rich but the poor had suffered greatly; she had seen glimpses of such in the free cities years ago. It was there that she had learned what it was to lead, to win men to her cause and met her dearest friend; and at moments like this she missed her greatly.

Daenerys lifted her head as dawn's light filtered into the tent and was surprised to see Jorah still slept on the pallet across from her. He was always up first, usually already doing something around camp by the time she got up. But Jorah lay on his side, his features relaxed in sleep and he looked peaceful; his hair slightly mussed. Against her side something twitched and Daenerys frowned, shifting her blanket before she froze.

A deep blue egg glinted as it was revealed to the early morning light, and it trembled slightly where it lay. Excitement and shock raced through her system, as she lay a hand on it, her fingers carefully exploring the smooth edges of the fine scales. It continued to quiver as though the dragon within wanted to come out, intensifying as she lay her palm against its surface.

She knew exactly where it came from and who had found it, carefully she lifted the egg and turned it in her hands, looking at the beautiful deep blue scales that covered it, but for a mark near the base, scarred deep into the surface of the egg. It twitched in her hands and Daenerys could feel the heat within it; the dragon longed for life.

Gently setting it beside her she leaned across the small shelter and kissed the cheek of the man sleeping there, cupping his face in her hand as he woke, she shifted; kissing him hard. When Jorah shifted in surprise Daenerys let him pull back, seeing the confusion written across his face as she pulled the egg into her lap, he pushed himself up.

"Do you want to try hatching it today Khaleesi?" He asked, scrubbing a hand across his face; Daenerys noticed the scrap of wrapped around his hand. Pausing as the egg stirred in her hands, as though sensing they were speaking of it. "It wasn't doing that last night."

"I don't think it will be hard to hatch." But as her thumb stroked the scales the mark near the base seemed even deeper.

Jorah rose and moved to attend the small fire they had used to cook last night, Daenerys cradled the egg in her arms as she stepped out, looking across the platform; looking for her children. But neither dragon was lurking, and she did not see them in the sky either.

Last night they had taken off into the ruins to rest, and it seemed they had found spots they liked. As Jorah got the fire going, she lay the egg near it, watching it tremble as the flames lent their heat; Daenerys studied it curiously. It had taken a great fire, and sacrifice to call her children to life; but this egg seemed different.

"Was there only one egg in the pool?" She asked, wishing he had woken her last night.

"There were more, but…" He broke off, he looked a little sheepish. "I can try to get another."

She nodded eagerly, curious at the look that crossed his face; perhaps she knew why he had not woken her. He had not been sure of what to do. And as his back was turned Daenerys smiled a little to herself, Jorah was so often the one to advise and guide her; but when it came to his own magic he was not as confident.

No, she would not push that issue, she was still struggling to grasp her own place in this world and what it was meant to look like; she could not fault him for doing the same. They ate a simple breakfast side by side, both watching the egg by the fire; Daenerys eyed the mark on the side that seemed to be growing deeper still.

When Jorah crossed the platform and unfastened his sword, laying it beside the pool and then pulling off his shirt and boots as well; she scooped up the egg and moved to join him. Surprised to see the face of an amber dragon reflected in the waters that had been so murky before.

It looked like the dragons she had been told of as a girl, its scales and skin reflected a beautiful buffed chrome, lacking the dark tint that both of her dragons had developed. It waited, but as Jorah drew his dagger across his palm to reopen the wound the egg in her hands trembled violently.

The cut was shallow, and he knelt, running it through the water, and Daenerys watched in awe. The dragon retreated, swirling down with its wings tucked close to its body even before Jorah dove into the waters; as it stayed with him, she could see more of the great creature. Was it an illusion called to life by his magic? Or was there truly a dragon, the spirit of one living within that pool?

Leaning over she tried to see around Jorah and the dragon, to see what he must be looking at; but suddenly the waters began to bubble, and Jorah was rising quickly. This time he had a pale silver egg tucked under his arm, his other reaching out to help propel him back to the surface.

He broke gasping for air and Daenerys lay the blue egg aside to help pull him out; the great dragon followed him back up. And as he leaned against the stones breathing hard, she glanced to the amber dragon looking up from the waters that shimmered with life.

The fine silver egg was thrust at her and as she cradled it, he wrapped the cut on his hand again before reaching for his shirt. This egg was still in her arms, it did not stir as the blue one did; but immediately she noticed it was warm to the touch.

"Are you alright?" She asked cautiously, knowing he would answer quickly to keep her from worrying; but he looked tired. And when he only nodded Daenerys wondered how much strength it took to call upon his magic.

She intended to question him further, but her dragons arrived, gliding down landing smoothly on the stone just beyond the pool. Their heads tilted with interest and she wondered if they were looking at the eggs or the dragon within the pool.

Jorah pushed to his feet, a look passed between the man and her largest child, Drogon eased closer to him. Daenerys held the egg so that the grown dragons could sniff it, Rhaegal offered to open his jaws and she lay a hand on his snout to prevent him from breathing fire across it now.

Drogon sniffed each very carefully, his hot exhale washing over her as he nuzzled it. As her dragons grew their fire became stronger and hotter, Daenerys suspected their flames would be enough to hatch the eggs; once dragons must have been able to hatch their own eggs. And the excitement that washed over her was powerful, there would be more dragons in the world today.

…

Jorah watched her cradle the eggs carefully, standing between two grown dragons. To her they were children, she loved and cherished each of them, he suspected he knew the reason she wanted the second egg; and it was not greed. No, she had not asked how many there were when he told her there were more, she wanted the hatchlings to have a sibling to grow with.

He did not know if it was as important to the dragons, some stories claimed they were solitary creatures, and Drogon had ventured off on his own a few years ago; but generally, the dragons seemed close. They certainly had been as they grew, and even now, though Rhaegal was somewhat smaller the two were usually together; both remained close to her.

The moment her gaze rose to him Jorah felt the warmth there, he could see the excitement in her, and it made him smile. She had caught him off guard this morning, he had expected her to be pleased; he hadn't expected her to reach for him. It stirred a whole host of emotions he had thought long since put to rest; even as he told himself her reaction had simply been impulsive.

And he watched as she lay the eggs in a small alcove created by ruined stone, side by side and shimmering in the sun light; the blue egg still visibly stirring. She paused running her hands over the silver one, and he frowned, the dragon's mark prickled on his chest as the cut on his hand welled with blood again.

"The scar on the blue egg is growing." She whispered and Jorah frowned, moving closer only to see that what had once been a small smear on the side of the egg was now a gash in the scaled surface; the egg quivered violently as he leaned over her shoulder.

"It is blood, I..." Hesitantly Jorah unbound the fresh cut on his palm, laying it flat against the silver egg and felt a surge of warmth rush up to meet his skin; the mark on his chest clenched tightly.

The Khaleesi reached out, her fingers tracing over the mark he left, but her hand came away clean; as though the egg had absorbed the blood. A smile played at her lips and she rose quickly, colliding with him as he stepped back a moment to late; but her hand closed around his wrist. Her dragons remained perched nearby, they had been watching all of it and both dipped their heads; as though they had been waiting.

"Dracarys." The word came from her lips, low and clear; her dragons both opened their jaws to comply. He barely caught the words she whispered next. "Fire and blood."

Jorah stepped back, turning away from the onslaught the dragons breathed out as the Khaleesi stared into the flames; he did not share her tolerance of fire. Their flames had called him back instead of turning him to ash on that pyre a few months ago, but the intensity of the flame poured back in a wall of heat. And before the fire died off, she started forward, intent on the goal in front of her.

Still a good distance from the dragons' target, Jorah felt the heat in the air around him and in the stone beneath his feet; they seemed even more powerful today. But when he did chance to look, he swallowed hard, he'd seen her with hatchlings once before and that had awed him.

Today it felt little different, it was a punch in the gut to see her kneeling on pale, polished stone with one hatchling perched on her forearm and the other clinging to the front of her dress; the dress was more than a little singed. The gleaming silver dragon perched upon her arm hopped awkwardly up until it could press itself into the crook of her elbow; tiny claws leaving red marks on her skin.

Her free hand folded over the blue one that clung to her dress, its head nuzzled against her chest. Jorah drew closer and knelt next to her, dipping his head to acknowledge what she had done again, but she reached out; her palm resting along his cheek again.

When he met her eyes, he realized she had eased closer and as her mouth was sealed to his he felt the press of her body to his, and the tiny dragons that clung to her between them. Unable to resist he cupped her face in both his hands and kissed her back, kissed her hard; she would never stop amazing him.

She melted against him and Jorah felt her response course through him, it was a long moment before he eased back and studied her; his thumbs stroking her cheeks. And they both glanced down to find two tiny dragons looking up at them curiously, the blue one attempted to spread its wings and he felt the brush of them against his own chest.

"You have two more dragons Khaleesi." He murmured.

"They are beautiful." Her hand dropped to his knee; she made no move to push back.

Reluctantly Jorah shifted and stood, offering his hand to her as the little dragons stretched their wings and made little screeches; both quieted as she stroked their foreheads. They were different than Drogon and Rhaegal, the grown dragons were tinted with black; their colors glinting beneath the scales. The hatchlings had black claws, but their scales matched their bodies, the underside of their wings and bellies only slightly paler.

The silver one shifted, hopping and awkwardly stretching its wings to jump up to her shoulder; looking to the grown dragons. The dragons eased closer cautiously, pressing their snouts into the Khaleesi's back as the little blue one pulled itself up to peer over her other shoulder. The little dragons made small noises that were returned by the large ones and when the silver one hopped again both dragons jerked back.

…

Her children did not seem to know what to make of the tiny hatchlings, they were inquisitive, trying to sniff them; they didn't know she remembered the time when they had been this small. She had spent so much of that time willing them to grow, needing their strength to help her fight a claim to something she had since relinquished. But she cherished those memories, letting them ride upon her shoulder and teaching them to feed themselves. And they had grown, they still were; Daenerys was a little excited to do it again.

Jorah caught a few fish and they roasted them in the flames before she carefully fed the babies little pieces; letting them explore their new world. They looked almost comical hopping about, awkwardly trying to manage their wings, she stayed close to them as they explored the camp before choosing the alcove they had hatched in to sleep.

As exciting as the babies were, she noticed the stone the dragons had burned had not scorched, instead the flames had licked away to moss and filth; making the ancient stone gleam. Dragons thrived here, and though she knew a ruined city was a vulnerable place to stay it was the first place she had ever been that truly felt like home; that was hers.

Stone men lurked at the borders and their shelter was simple, but something about this place called to her in a gentle way; as though her magic was free. It might not be easy, but she knew it was not meant to be; Bran had told her as much. But this city had once been great, its legends lived for centuries after its doom; perhaps the purpose of this place remained.

That night the little dragons slept where they had been born, claiming the little cave for their lair and she watched her grown children take off. They soared across the waterway and landed on the ruin of a great mountain; each disappearing into their own lair.

She wondered at the differences between them and a small part of her hoped the hatchlings' differences might indicate they were female. It was the only reason she could think of, and perhaps the answer she needed. If dragons were to truly return to this world there needed to be more than four, already one of her children had been lost; they needed a way to continue on.

Laying down she watched as Jorah banked the fire and loosened his sword belt, laying the weapon beside his pallet before settling. But Daenerys could not settle that night, the dreams came, vivid and vicious as she fought to wake and finally did; breathing hard with Jorah rubbing her back.

Daenerys sighed, pushing herself up to sit and leaned back into Jorah, her cheek resting against his chest. Above the dragons' mark where she could feel the skin clenching though Jorah said nothing of it, his hands gently steadying her. It was a long time before she settled again, this time in his arms; but the dream came back.


	22. Chapter 22

She looked a little tired as she fed the two small hatchlings, one perched upon her shoulder and the other her knee; swallowing the little pieces of meat eagerly. She had not slept well last night, or any of the last few nights, he had struggled to soothe her last night and Jorah eyed the two grown dragons that circled overhead, returning from their lairs to join them. He'd seen them heading for open water near dawn, likely hunting for their own meals.

The mark on his chest had not yet rested and it left him tense, watching her carefully. Sometimes she spoke of the dreams, telling him a little of what she saw or felt as she tried to find her balance again; other times talking did not help. He wondered if the older dragons sensed her mood, Jorah kept his eye on Drogon as he set to work, slowly clearing a little more of the platform, moving what he could to the edges as he cleared the steps that descended into the water.

He could not move the great pieces of stone or structure and he was no builder, but he could make this place a little more inhabitable. Their little boat rocked in the water where it was tethered, and eventually Jorah reached the bottom step, the water up to his knees where the stairs ended, dropping off sharply; he wasn't sure how deep the waters were through here. In truth he was having a hard time envisioning what this city had looked like.

In the ruined stone he could see that there had been fine carvings, and partial statues heralded the dragons this place was known for. But the stone pillars and fragments of arches that lay across the platform and jutted from the waters were confusing. In other places he saw the debris of what might have been homes or shops, overgrown and ruined but distinguishable by what was left behind. Here he saw nothing that would have formed solid walls or defenses; given the waters forked around this platform to enter what must have been the heart of the city there should have been defenses of some kind. While the dragons were fierce defenses, he struggled to see a city entrance of such importance without gates or battlements.

"Jorah?" The Khaleesi called, standing down near where they camped, he'd made some ground he thought as he headed back to her. "Would you come with me? I want to take Drogon up."

He nodded, though his eyes roamed to the hatchlings tucked in the little cave made by the ruins. These hatchlings had already begun to grow, but a little more than week old they could not defend themselves. The stone men did not seem to venture this far in, hugging the coast and outer rim; but dragons that small were vulnerable to many things. "Should we move them to one of the bigger caves?"

"Near the foot of the mountain." She agreed and moved to pick up the sleepy little dragons.

He rowed them out to the foot of the flame and helped her up the rubble into one of the caves, at one time it might have been a mine shaft. The hatchlings contentedly curled together again, and they returned to their camp before he followed her over to where Drogon waited.

She climbed up first and he followed, but as he found his seat her frame slid firmly back against his before she leaned forward to get her grip and ask the dragon to fly. Drogon took them up that day and they spent much of it exploring the ruins from above; and then again, the next.

Jorah managed to shift a large stone over, so they had a smooth flat surface to use as a table just outside their shelter. He worked each evening on that map, from the dragon's back he could get the sense of the islands, of the ruins and where they had natural defenses. The great flames with collapsed mines riddled throughout them, but the ancient mountains created an impassible rim and showed him exactly why this platform had seemed such an important platform.

The waters that flowed through the close islands branched east and west, but it was not debris from the ruins that made those waters impassible. No, Jorah had taken the small boat down to explore them, the structures had been sunk at intervals; built so that no boat could pass the shallow water. Standing in knee deep water he looked out, the waters ran clear and he could see the sunken structures going all the way out to where the water opened to the sea and a ruined wall. The wall began where the flames settled, and he suspected that it had once circled around to the other side; the land had reclaimed the stone that had collapsed generations ago.

A small hand stroked across his shoulder and Jorah shifted as Daenerys leaned over to look at his work; she must have settled her young dragons in their lair. The small dragons liked to cling to her, and he knew she liked how curled into her and looked for her attention; she was almost never without them when they were on the ground.

"You've added a lot of detail to that." The Khaleesi murmured and eased closer; he could feel the press of her side against his back. "It was well defended once wasn't it?"

"Yes, I believe so." Jorah murmured, he started to shift to the side so she could have some space; but she took it as an excuse to sit in his lap.

He had become used to rubbing her back to soothe her as the Khaleesi tried to cope with the dreams that haunted her; but it was taking its toll on her. But Jorah did not move her, and she nestled deeper into his arms, eyes moving over the map he had made.

Gently he rubbed her back as he did when she woke uneasily from the dreams and she leaned her head into his shoulder. He tensed as he felt the Khaleesi nuzzle his neck and glanced down at her as that palm found its way beneath the thin fabric of his shirt and ran against his skin. Her fingers did not stay still, and he was cautious but did not move; Jorah was careful to keep his hands to himself.

The Khaleesi shifted in his lap, her palm resting against his cheek. "I want an early night Jorah and I want to sleep."

…

He stayed still, and she hid her sigh; she had hoped for some response to that. They spent days riding together on Drogon's back and Daenerys always eased back into his frame; it was comforting to have his strong arms wrap around her. She wished he would hold her tight and tonight she intended that he would.

Jorah was her only company here and she was not lonely, he was attentive to her needs, always ready to defend or comfort her; they spoke easily. They had spent nearly two weeks here and while she had two young dragons, Rhaellys and Jahara, but she still could not say she knew why. And the dreams came relentlessly.

When she rose from his lap Jorah stayed where he was, and Daenerys said nothing, but she slipped into the shelter and loosened the ties of her dress. Laying it aside she settled onto her pallet and pulled the sheet around her, seeing that Jorah had risen to roll the large map he had made; he would not enter the shelter if he though she needed privacy.

He came in and settled onto his pallet, laying his sword beside his shoulder though she knew it was too early for him to sleep; the sun was just beginning to set. She left her pallet and crossed to him, pulling back his sheet and crouching to tuck herself in beside him as Jorah started to sit up; surprise written on his face.

Her hand ran along the back of his neck and leaned in to kiss him hard; folding herself down against him to prevent his escape. Jorah was tense, her fingers ran over his shoulders and eagerly moved to the ties of his shirt, running her palm over his chest. She lay down beside Jorah and pressed herself close to him, he was not unaffected and cautiously he kissed her back.

"You are sure?" He murmured against her cheek.

Encouraging him, her thighs parted and pulled him closer until Jorah's knee slide against her; arching into him. She was sure. That calloused palm touched her cheek gently, his tongue begged entrance to her mouth and when she gave it Jorah kissed her fiercely; though his weight did not settle over her.

Daenerys rubbed herself firmly against his upper thigh, needing the contact; more of it. Her palms ran over his chest and his back until she had his shirt pushed off him; her attention turned eagerly to his breeches but paused on a gasp.

Jorah had begun to explore for himself, he cupped her breast lightly at first, shifting it into his palm before his thumb rubbed over the nipple and then his mouth dipped to find it. Her hands slid into his hair as he sucked at it, making her body tense in need; Daenerys tried to shift him again.

She wanted to feel the solid press of his chest, his frame above her, and against her; she wanted him within her. But Jorah rested on one hip, his upper leg had tipped forward so she could grind against his thigh, she knew he felt the evidence of her desire; but he did not hurry. No, he suckled her breast and then the other, his palm smoothed over her ribs and then skated across her hips and stroked down her thigh.

Finally, it came back up, trailing lightly over her as he took the only contact she'd had away. Impatiently she turned up, rolling onto her own side; thinking to press their bodies together and hoping to break his control. And Jorah let her, but his fingers found the center of her and on a moan, she felt his other hand on the back of her neck; urging her to look up at him.

"There is no need to rush this." His voice rasped softly, feeling the warmth of his breath against her neck. "I wanted you a long time Khaleesi and I put it to rest because you had a different need of me."

She tensed, Jorah was not a cruel man, he would not play with her like this only to leave her wanting and embarrassed. And he certainly was not done touching her, her hips moved involuntarily; trying to get more pressure as he stroked her center.

"I've wondered what you would feel like. How would you respond when I stroke you? Do you prefer to be stroked or suckled? Are you as fierce as others have claimed?" Jorah's mouth covered hers for a long moment, his tongue plundering her mouth before he eased back, dipping to taste her jaw and then her throat. "There was a time when I longed for this."

"Now you don't?" She breathed unsteadily. He did not to pull away and his deep blue eyes were unguarded, unbidden the thought of when they had stared emptily at her rose; when she had thought she would never see him again. There was so much between them, but in that moment she had known they could have had more; and now they did.

"No, you have given me far more of yourself than you have given to any of your lovers, and it was never just your body I wanted." Daenerys mewled as both his hands cupped her face; she missed the sweet tension he had been creating in an instant.

It gave her pause and yet made her feel so safe, because she knew he told the truth; there was no one else she had ever been able to trust so completely. And she had lost him, she knew the hole he could leave in her life; Daenerys did not want to know that pain. No, she wanted him by her side always, it was his arms that made her feel safe, he always had but, in this moment, it was different; it was more.

But then the whole of his frame pressed forward; fitting firmly against her so she could feel his need, one of his hands skated over her back, as though he thought he would need to hold her there. But then he rolled her back, following carefully and his mouth pressed gently to her chest, to her belly; and he continued lower though she missed the feel of his body against hers.

He found the marks the dragon's claws left when they sought purchase to climb to her shoulder or snuggled into her chest, he found older scars she could scarcely remember. His hands smoothed over her, following his mouth until he held her hips; lifting slightly. And then he found the center of her.

He nuzzled between her thighs and Daenerys groaned at the pleasure he teased from her, arching into him without thought as her body tightened. Her senses honed upon the pleasure he was creating and yet unable to tell him she wanted more, she wanted to feel the whole of him; but all she could manage were soft moans.

As her body clenched, pushed to the edge he stopped again and this time she did growl; though it was short lived. Opening her eyes, she found he'd moved to remove his breeches, and as he shoved them to his ankles he watched her; an open hunger in his eyes.

When he knelt her thighs pressed wider, her arms reached for his shoulders and she felt the length of his arousal brush against her. Jorah teased a little, sliding through her folds, resting his weight on one elbow as he guided it home.

Daenerys kissed him hard, feeling that sweet pressure as he eased into her. For a moment they were both still, then he kissed her tenderly, slowly rolling his hips. On a groan she arched up, unwilling to lose contact with him, needing him to move but Jorah would not be rushed.

And pleasure raced through her system as he filled her, shifting to press his mouth to her jaw and then her throat. She could not be patient and tried to drive his pace forward, but only drove her own body into release. He did not stop, and she did not come down, her body clenched tightly around him and before it had passed pleasure was tightening within her again.

"Please Jorah." She whispered, holding him tightly as he thrust harder; he only shifted to answer her demand with his mouth over hers.

Then his hand slid between them, the feeling of him within her and his thumb stroking her clit was too much. Pleasure crashed through her body as a wave on the rocks; feeling his thrusts become erratic she knew he was close too. And then he withdrew, the heat of his release spilled over her thigh.

Daenerys sighed slightly; she had wanted to feel the hot rush of it in her body, with him. He rested on his forearms and she ran her hands along his sides, their chests pressed firmly together; she did not want to move. She didn't want this moment to end. But after a moment he rolled onto his side, he ran his palm along her cheek, and she shifted to stay close to him; unwilling to let him to pull back.

"You don't need to do that." She murmured, pressing her back into his chest as she pulled his arm around her.

"I won't force a child on you, Khaleesi you don't know what your future may hold." Jorah replied; his hand ran over her hair now.

"You won't force anything on me." She countered, catching his hand and holding it tightly, pulling it around her; and in the slight chance there was a child. "I don't believe you would let your child be born without a name."

He was silent and she fell asleep listening to the steady beat of his heart, his arms around her. And she woke to find his arm had slid down around her middle, taking a steadying breath she stayed where she was. A part of her had hoped that in his arms the dreams would not come, but they had; though not as bad as before.


	23. Chapter 23

Jorah let out a slight grunt as a small blue dragon used his back for a landing pad, the delighted squeal that followed did little to dull the pain from its claws. He stood still as the dragon climbed to his shoulder, its soft squeals declared its glee as the Khaleesi approached, urging the little dragon to hop back onto her shoulder.

He had rigged a portion of his coat into a shoulder strap for her, they had few belongings to spare but he didn't expect they would be returning to the North any time soon. Rhaellys was by far the more adventurous of the two hatchlings and when the Khaleesi was within five feet the blue dragon jumped and stretched its wings to soar across to her shoulder; its wings folding awkwardly in to land.

As the little dragon settled on her shoulder Jorah held the boat steady for her to climb in and then climbed back up the steps to fetch Jahara, setting the little silver dragon in the bottom of the boat he slipped the tie, pushed off and then swung his own frame in; adjusting the line so he could hold the sail and the rudder. Turning to float around the platform he followed one of the waterways that led into the ruined city.

Once people had lived here, rather than roads it seemed much of Valyria must have used the waterways to move between islands. Damaged stairs led up into the buildings, structures of stone, homes at one time, separated by great statues that rose into the mist; abandoned for centuries. Striking his flint he lit a torch.

While the Khaleesi roamed down the walkway Jorah climbed the steps to a building that looked different. Shouldering through the vines that blocked a doorway, most of the homes were destroyed and in some they found the bones that proved the legends true. The bones that remained were huge, but they did not rival what they had seen in the Shadow Lands, some lay shattered, others hung, still caught up where they smashed through roofs as the great dragons plunged back to earth.

This was not a home, though there was a walkway out front and homes on the other side of the waterway; there was something sinister about this place. He could hear the drip of water, but it was distant, and as far as he shone his torch, he could not see a rear wall, built back into the flame. When light reflected off rusting metal, he realized what this place had been.

Behind him he heard movement and turned back to find she had slipped tentatively through the vines. "You don't need to see this Khaleesi."

He moved to cut her off, to turn her back; there were other places for her to explore today. But Rhaellys hopped ahead of her, spitting smoke into the darkness; and generating a little flame. Just enough to illuminate the rubble the blue dragon stood on, and a rusted collar.

Pushing past him, Daenerys knelt to pick it up and as she lifted it a chain came with it, still attached to a bracket on the wall. He turned, trying to hide his wince as his torch illuminated far more littered through the rubble. "What was this place?"

"A slave holding." There was no lying, likely these men and women had worked in the mine, those who hadn't died here had probably died deep beneath the flame.

She reached for the torch and he handed it over, watching as she picked her way deeper in, crouching to touch the ruins, the marks of slavery and the bones. He followed offering his hand where he could, there was no turning her back and he didn't want to see her hurt climbing through the jumbled stone.

He looked up to the cracked ceiling and wondered what it had been for these poor souls, unable to see what had been happening above them; unable to escape. The Khaleesi picked up a small collar; it would barely his arm. Her shoulders shook and when she rose, she carried it with her, going deeper until fallen stone blocked their way.

It was a long time before they stepped back into the sunlight again, when they did a shadow passed above them and Drogon touched down; as though sensing that the Khaleesi needed him. Jorah could not answer her pain; he saw her need to escape and she didn't want to talk right now.

There was no denying the past, one of the reasons the Valyrian Freehold had spread as far as it did was the need for slaves. He watched as the dragon took flight, the Khaleesi on its back as they disappeared into the mist.

Collecting the little dragons Jorah took the boat up and docked on another walkway, this time was a row of homes. They were ruined, but he roamed anyways, looking for artifacts that had survived, indicators of what life here had been; but after so many years he found few.

This place was not like the North he had grown up in where the cold could preserve bodies for thousands of years, nor like the far east where bodies mummified. No, left out in the open the bones had decayed, those they found were either brittle, nearly dust or huge.

He chose another at random, and continued for several hours, he would update the map tonight with everything he saw. Finally, he came to one which was mostly intact, though the jungle had invaded; he cautiously climbed to the second level where he could look up to see hazy daylight. It must have been an outdoor space of some sort, his fingers ran over the fine stonework, and suddenly there was a screech overhead.

A shadow passed above him and what he had thought was a damaged statue might serve a different purpose as Drogon landed easily on it; and Rhaegal on one further down. The red and black dragon dipped its head and Jorah tensed a moment before he was sent sliding across the floor; the mark on his chest came to life again.

"Jorah?" He heard the Khaleesi's voice, full of concern as she climbed down and found a set of old stairs leading down to the upper level of the house; Jorah looked up at her dragons.

"I'm here Khaleesi." He glared at Drogon for a moment and picked himself up, he didn't understand the dragon's interest in him; but he wasn't gentle. "This one is mostly intact."

"They built so much in stone, now the stone is all that is left of them." She murmured, there was still sadness in her voice, eying the perches her dragons rested on. "Except for the books; and the dragons. The dragons are the core of Valyria."

He nodded; in all the buildings they had entered they found few indicators of the people who had lived here; perhaps the doom had burned it all away. Or time had consumed what the people had left behind, all that was left was stone, steel and magic.

"It would take some work, but it might be more comfortable here." The poor shelter at the central island would take its toll.

"We are here to stay Jorah; I am the blood of Old Valyria and so are you." Her eyes fixed on him and he nodded; he knew she meant to stay. "This is our home."

The little dragons rode on her shoulder but as he used his dagger to cut down vines that wove over the stone, she pulled some of the debris down; eyes roaming up to her dragons watching. The stonework was old but the benches that lined the low walls were held up by carved dragons and he could not find the joints where mortar joined the slabs of stone.

And then she took his wrist and pulled him down the stairs, when they stood back on the dock she murmured to the grown dragons. "Dracarys."

Drogon and Rhaegal did the work for them, and as the little dragons spat smoke from her shoulder Jorah had to turn away. Something tied him to the dragons, and the pool built at the heart of Valyria, but it seemed that those ties were distinct from hers.

…

Fire polished the stone, burning away the vines and weeds that grew within the house; but it was when Jorah brought their things from the platform that it began to feel like a home. She explored the lower floors while he made the trip. The windows had long since lost their shutters or any glass but much of the interior had been built from stone.

Shelves were inlaid into each room, and she chose one for her own, letting Rhaellys hop onto the window ledge. When Jorah returned, he took the room next to hers, leaving the books in the main room; they had so few belongings with them. But Daenerys was used to that, she had moved so many times in her life; would this be the first place that she truly settled? Would this finally be home?

Settling on the bench she opened the first volume that Jorah liked to read, eying the characters, wishing they would shift so that she could read them. Wishing this was simple, but to understand her role she needed to understand the past; to look at what had been done.

Drogon had taken her up over Valyria, shrouded by the mist of the smoking sea and still full of secrets; they had soared around the islands for hours. Reaching into the folds of her dress she drew out the tiny collar again, laying it next to the book, it was hard to look at the history of this place when she could do nothing of it.

There was no one to liberate, no war she could fight to change the fate of these people; the people her own ancestors had enslaved. It had all happened hundreds of years ago and changed the course of history; but for many Valyria must have been a place of fear and rumor even before the doom.

Jorah said nothing when she slipped into the room he had chosen, and she curled into his arms; but sleep did not come easy. In the dream she walked through the slave holding, only she went deeper, walking on as the walls began to shake and crumble; as people screamed.

Caught in the surge of slaves running from the mines that were already collapsing she turned back, moving with the flow; pushed and shoved. Suddenly she was up in the hold and in the press of bodies was crushed against a heavy door, people screamed and beat on it, men struggled at the end of their chains; yanked back by the collars on their necks.

The image spun as the stench of the holding and the sound of the screams overwhelmed her; but in the dim light she saw one thing. The holding had been barred off, and not even the masters had been spared. A rumble rose from beneath the mountain, smoke and flame billowed up; filling the chamber.

"Khaleesi!" Jorah's voice reached into the dream, and she felt him shaking her, but the images held her tight; until Jorah pulled her close.

His skin felt cool, breaking through the heat and smoke that surrounded her and she opened her eyes; sucking in a deep breath. Her face was pressed into his shoulder, Jorah rubbed her back and in the soft light she could see the mark on his skin.

"I'm okay." She whispered, wishing her voice wasn't shaking so badly.

His hand made firm circles over her back and she lay safe in his arms, he lifted his head. "Its nearly morning, do you want to sleep a little longer?"

"No." She wasn't going to get back to sleep now.

Jorah rose and eased around her, reaching quickly for his shirt as Daenerys sat up, watching him for a moment. He frowned as he sat beside her to pull on his boots, reaching out to rub her shoulder again. There were brief moments when she was jealous, he could look into the pool to see what he wanted to; he didn't dream. His magic was bound to the pool and the dragon there and bound to her; but hers was different.

"I'm going to take Drogon out over the sea. I need to…" She trailed off, this where they belonged; but she could not breathe right now.

"I'll work on the map."

"I would rather you came with me." She felt safer when he was with her, calmer.

Jorah nodded, but paused before he stood up; Rhaellys was trying to climb his leg. Wincing as the little blue dragon perched on his knee, studying them. Jahara watched intently from the floor and the little silver dragon hopped onto his boot and Daenerys smiled; they wanted to come too.

They took flight that morning, Jorah rigged a satchel, so the straps rode across her chest; her young dragons rode on her back. Pressed safely between her back and his chest as Drogon soared out over the mountains and over the smoking sea; until the mist cleared and the waters shimmered.

She needed this today, she needed to fly with her children, to remind herself of the beauty and power of the dragons. She was called to them before anything else, and all of this, returning to Valyria and discovering its secrets.

The sea shimmered a bright blue beneath them, flying South until they passed over a series of small islands; and then out over the sea again. They passed over a few ships at sea, the crew on deck looking up at the great dragons who flew high above, but further out to sea they passed a different one.

"Jorah, what is that ship?" She felt a knot of fear in her stomach, she thought she knew and urged Drogon to dip low, surprised when arrows flew up at them; the dragons were still far above the ship.

"It's a slave ship." He murmured, she barely heard him over the wind.

"No." Daenerys whispered, not today of all days and as tension crept up her spine Jorah's grip on her right side loosened.

His palm pressed to her cheek and she felt his gaze searching her face for a moment. "Get down as close as you can."

As though obeying her words Drogon dipped until he had to tilt the whole of his body to keep his wings free of the sails; Rhaegal did the same. Archers froze in shock, men and women cowered on the deck in chains, suddenly Jorah was not behind her, Daenerys glanced back to see him on the deck of the ship.

He rolled several times and as the dragons breathed fire in warning, keeping the crews' attention, he was on his feet; sword drawn. When a man aimed an arrow at him Jorah stepped forward and without hesitating had his sword at the man's throat. She could not hear what he said, but the dragons rode the wind, staying as close to the ship as they could.


	24. Chapter 24

Jorah tried to ignore the pain that flared in his side, he'd landed hard on the deck, the dragon's back had still been meters above the deck; but Drogon couldn't get any lower. The sailors on deck surrendered their weapons quickly, but the captain at the helm was another story. The man drew on him and Jorah easily evaded the blade until sharp pain grabbed his chest and his opponent froze.

A tiny branch of fire arced through the space between them and Jorah took his opportunity; dispatching his opponent. And then he stared at the open deck, he hadn't even ventured into the lower decks; he'd had the displeasure of knowing what it could be.

"Do you speak the common tongue?" Jorah eyed the group of sailors cowering in the walkways, they eyed him uneasily; and the small dragon that had now perched itself on his shoulder. "What was your last port? Where are these people from?"

There was a long moment where no one spoke, only the sounds of the boat rocking, and the cries of fear from those below who could not see what was happening. Jorah paced the length of the deck, intended to check the hold for charts and a logbook; a faint voice stopped him. "We are from the Summer Isles, different places."

He nodded and knelt, drawing the dagger from his belt he reached for the man's wrists; the manacles were held closed by a pin rather than a key. Not an uncommon practice, especially given how many sets there were on this ship, striking the pin with the point of the dagger he drove it back.

"Release the others, try to keep them calm." Jorah instructed quietly, handing over the blade, turning his attention back to the sailors.

He gave the orders for the men to set sail for the Summer Isles, keeping his sword in hand, Jahara clung to shoulder watching everything that was happening; making squeals and squeaks it might believe to be threatening. But Jorah knew it was the grown dragons still flying alongside them that kept the sailors feeling compliant.

When darkness fell, he sensed the ship slow, no longer riding on the air currents the dragons created as they soared alongside. The Khaleesi must have taken the dragons to find somewhere to rest for the night, he paced the decks, what ever supplies had been below had been broken out and shared among the starving on board; women and children first had not needed to be said.

Still his best guess was tomorrow afternoon before they made land, at the earliest; he paid close attention to their course and the charts. He did not intend to be sent into a trap and perhaps the sailors sensed that; they made steady progress through the night and by dawn the dragons flanked them again.

Jorah was starting to feel the long night and walked the length of the deck, his body ached and as he stood, face into the wind he noticed a woman in the bow; still huddled in chains. Frowning he began to pick his way through the crowded decks, people stood now, and many had come up from the lower decks, moving stiffly and cowering whenever he passed them.

Most were half starved and terrified, some had the dead look of resignation, they knew what had awaited them at the end of this voyage; and watched him skeptically. When he shifted to kneel next to her someone called out to him; he saw them whispering but he already realized why.

She had been in chains a very long time, at some point they had bound her wrists to her middle and her ankles in a sick hog tie; he could pick out the chain within the swollen, infected wounds. She barely stirred as he gently shifted her wrists, then a rattling cough shook her chest.

"Bring me some fresh water." He snarled at the crowd still whispering behind him.

Eventually it was provided and with care he began to clean the wounds, slowly excising the long chain before cleansing and binding the wounds; she had been bound so she could hardly move long before this ship sailed. The little dragon clung to the front of his shirt, just below his shoulder and watched eagerly.

But as he finally began to work on her swollen and bloody ankles. Jahara launched herself to his forearm and he swallowed a groan of pain as the little dragon found balance; claws digging into his skin. As the dragon squealed at him, spreading it wings when he dipped another cloth into the water; glancing up he caught Rhaegal's eye. Even above the dragons were watching him.

Pausing he frowned as the mark on his chest gave a quick pulse, the dragons were trying to tell him something and as his own blood dripped into the basin of water and quickly dissolved. Uneasily Jorah continued cleaning the wounds, finally able to pull the chain free and standing he heaved it over the side. The woman still looked sickly but began to shift, Jorah offered her a hand and helped her to sit up; then slowly stand. Limbs slowly unfolded until she was upright, he held her firmly, afraid that she would collapse again as she clung to him; though her gaze flicked to the dragon still riding on him.

"You are free." The woman shifted to lean on the side and for a moment he feared she would heave herself over the rail. He knew the Khaleesi enough to make that promise, he knew doing this would help her; and he wished it was her looking into this woman's eyes.

…

She let Jorah lead the way, using the maps on the ship to find the right port, but the dragons soared ahead, and she realized the port they were heading for as the islands appeared on the horizon. It was not until late in the afternoon that they arrived in the harbour, people on the docks scattered as the dragons soared overhead; a few froze in terror. Drogon found a perch on a low wall, Rhaegal landing beside him and Daenerys climbed down to stand between her dragons.

Sheltered between them she watched the ship come into port, some on board did not wait for them to come alongside; throwing themselves over the side to swim for the dock. Jahara gleamed in the sunlight, perched on Jorah's shoulder as he closely watched the sailors tying off the ship. As the people cautiously disembarked, locals watched from everywhere, faces filled doorways and windows; and those that hid on the decks of other ships peered out.

When Jorah finally lead the sailors off, making them stand in front of her before he crossed to her; he had carried one woman off, setting her gently at the foot of the wall. He looked tired and glanced at the little dragon who began to call eagerly to the other dragons; she hadn't realized Jahara had crawled out of the satchel until she had seen her riding his shoulder on that ship.

"The captain resisted; the rest are here." Jorah informed her quietly, he did not climb to stand beside her but turned to stand before her; hand going instinctively to his sword.

For a moment Daenerys was silent, her eyes on that ship. What was to stop the slavers from capturing more people the moment they flew home? "Can that ship be re-purposed?"

Jorah shook his head, his gaze flat. "It wouldn't be."

He was right, she knew that and as her gaze slid to the men kneeling before her anger coiled in her gut. But she also remembered a plea Jorah had made a long time ago, all men needed a chance to change; yet they had to want it.

"I am Daenerys Stormborn, Heart of the Dragon, and daughter of the true Valyria. I free you. And I will rise against any who bind men or women into slavery." She spoke in Valyrian, her voice loud and clear, people stared, some looked confused; but she knew at least a few understood.

She glanced to Jorah and he strode forward, slicing the lines that moored the ship; and as he urged those nearby to step back Daenerys gave the command. On a powerful breath her dragons lit the ship and the force of their fire drove the ship out from the dock; consuming it quickly.

That ship would never transport slaves again, and she would keep her promise; slavers would tremble when they saw the dragons' shadow or heard the flap of their wings. The sailors stood uneasily where Jorah left them, Daenerys had no pity; they could be thankful they had not been left onboard.

The ship burned quickly, even the water struggled to douse the flames as the hold burned; and finally, the flames flickered out. The chains on that ship would sink to the bottom of the harbour, and with the spectacle over the harbour began to move again.

It warmed her heart to see people come from their homes to help the weak who struggled to walk, the woman Jorah had helped was carried away. She didn't know if these people had lived here, or if this city simply knew the horrible ordeal that they had survived; living in fear of it themselves.

Jorah stayed at her shoulder as she roamed towards the open-air market, she knew he sensed the eyes tracking them. Rhaellys pulled herself free of the satchel and made the short transfer to sit next to Jahara, noticing Jorah's wince as the two young dragons rode on his shoulder. Her older sons took flight, circling high above the island, exploring while they waited for her call them.

But it was too late in the day to make it back to Valyria and she wanted to explore for herself. She knew Jorah had a lot on his hands yesterday, he'd managed to control the crew of the ship and make them change course. Keeping the dragons close had kept the men compliant, but it had given her time to think; and though she did not sleep her mind tossed as it did when she dreamed.

Only she was not dreaming, her mind tumbled through the memories of that slave holding, the images of her dream; the fate of the freehold that had enslaved thousands in the pursuit of powerful magic. Had the magic of the dragons not been enough for them? Or had they lost the ability to use it? Had she truly seen the magic of her children yet?

It was a question that she came back to over and over again; it was only as she glanced to the man beside her that she thought she might know the truth; she felt the truth. The market hummed with activity, but word was spreading, and it followed them through the street.

They had paused at a bakery, her stomach growled as Jorah handed over the coin for two flaky warm pastries, he had to be as hungry as she was. She took a bite of the one he handed to her, delighted to find it full of sweet fruit; the dragons on his shoulder looked at her curiously. They were hungry too.

"Will you find us a room for the night?" She asked, knowing they both needed to rest, and while her grown children would find their own food, she wanted privacy to feed the babies.

Jorah nodded but paused, his eyes narrowed, fixed on something behind her; she turned to see an ornate litter had come to a halt at the top of the street. A young man in fine robes stepped from it, Daenerys narrowed her eyes at the men left standing at each corner, they wore no collars, but she didn't trust that to mean anything.

People in the street quickly moved aside and let him pass, she glanced to Jorah; of course, the leaders of the city would hear of this. The man approached, speaking a language she did not understand, and one look told her that Jorah didn't know it either; he switched to a version of valyrian.

The man cut between her and Jorah, turning her towards the high street; she glanced back to see that Jorah was still close. She did not trust the man and saw shadows pass above; her dragons had come too. He was a prince, proudly introducing himself as a son of the Isles, his father was king of this island, and she did not miss the greed in his eyes as he looked back to the little dragons riding on Jorah's shoulder; he was not the first man to covet her dragons.

No doubt he had been sent to find out who she was and what her intentions were; but she sensed his own ambitions as well. It was in his eyes, in the familiar way he spoke and pried into who she was; and in how he deliberately ignored Jorah.

"If you will excuse me, there is an inn on the corner." Daenerys ignored his question, glancing back to Jorah. "We've had a long journey and another tomorrow."

"You are more than welcome to stay at the palace." The prince offered eagerly.

"I must decline, I do not come as an ambassador of a nation to make offers to you; but to keep a promise I made long ago." One she had lost sight of as Westeros loomed in front of her, and yet in that country she had lost more than she'd ever gained.

"But you do represent a nation, and a great house. You lay aside a throne to allow your nephew to take it, giving him the banners of a great house and armies to take back the Seven Kingdoms." The Prince spoke clearly, and Daenerys heard the shadow in his voice; did he think her weak for stepping aside? "And he may sit on a throne, but Westeros is barely his; the Lannister Queen lives."

Daenerys froze, trying to keep the surprise from her face as she processed that news. Cersei Lannister was as dangerous as long as she lived, and if she had escaped then Aegon was not safe; she would not abandon her claim to the throne. The legacy of her family was not restored. But what of her friends, of the armies that had faced their fears to follow her?

"Does she hold Casterly Rock?" She had asked them to fight for him, she had asked them to win the Seven Kingdoms for her family; for their legacy.

"No. The Lannister Queen fled to sea; I have not heard if she's made port." He informed her eagerly, dark eyes scanning her face; he'd sensed her interest in the conversation change and Daenerys schooled her features carefully.

"Then I would say my nephew holds Westeros." She countered, though her mind spun, and she drew back. "I am afraid I must find some rest."

The man had little choice but to agree, and slowly took his leave; she knew he noticed when Jorah's hand came to the small of her back. She did not care, he would not get whatever it was that he wanted from her; in the morning they would go home.

They took a room at the inn and a meal, though it was not for them. As she fed the meat to the little dragons, now contentedly perched on the side table Jorah sat on the other side of the bed, sipping a cup of ale as he removed his boots; his weapon belt leaned against the table on his side.

Rhaellys grabbed the last piece of meat and she turned to him, he was tired; but it seemed to hit him suddenly and she had seen him bear up under far more difficult circumstances. It was warm here; Daenerys had already abandoned her gown and she reached over to pull his shirt; hiding her gasp at the mottled bruising and cuts on his shoulder.

She knew better than to comment but heard his sigh as she smoothed her hand over the bruises. She'd been able to soothe his pain once before; her touch had comforted him as his scars melted away after he came from the pyre. But tonight, he only lay back and closed his eyes.


	25. Chapter 25

He woke to the feel of her frame against his front, the thin shift she slept in had ridden up and at first, he started to shift back until he realized she was moving deliberately. As her hips rocked, he caught her, pulling her back firmly, hearing her soft groan as he realized she'd been playing longer than he knew.

His palm slid over her, the soft swell of her breasts and smooth belly as he nuzzled her hair aside; pressing a kiss to the side of her neck. She was warm and slick already, Jorah arched his hips forward and she pressed back, without thinking he surged forward to shift her beneath him; feeling the soft curve of her ass.

It was only as he felt her tense that he considered why she might not like to be pressed onto her front and he ran his hand along the curve of her back. Taking a moment to rub her shoulder, shift her into position; urging her to relax as he knelt behind her, wrapping a hand around his cock; joining their bodies carefully.

He had no intention of hurting her, and as he eased back, when he felt her press up and rolled his hips forward; easing in and out. Slowly finding a rhythm, fighting his need for her, she had started before him and now, especially, he wanted to ensure she found release first.

"Jorah." She gasped, her hands clenching the bedsheets as he stroked her sides; gently pulling her hips back against him. "Please Jorah."

He groaned, the feel of her was sweet torture, she rocked up against him, the little sounds she made telling him how close she was. Running a hand up to her shoulder, pressing his chest to her back as he felt her body tremble; the sound of his name on her lips as she came.

He thrust hard, the feel her tight body grasping him, her body pressed snug to his chest was more than enough for him to lose control. She pulled at his hand and he couldn't stop his full weight from collapsing onto her; nuzzling her throat before pressing a kiss to her cheek.

"Good morning." He murmured; she was rolling towards him as soon as he lifted himself off her.

"It is." She smiled at him, her fingers ran along his jaw as she made herself comfortable against his chest; he pressed his palm to her cheek and kissed her properly. "You're feeling better."

"It was a long day." He still couldn't explain how suddenly it had all hit him; he barely remembered crawling into bed last night.

"I think it was something else Jorah." Her palm moved to rest over the dragon's mark, and he looked down; the pressure of her touch uncomfortable. "The bruises are already fading but this is getting worse."

"I don't know." He shifted her hand to find the skin beneath the mark was red not bruised; the lines stood out a bright white. "But we have a long trip today."

She nodded and they both shifted to dress; Jorah glanced down at the mark again. It hadn't pulsed or ached last night, or in the afternoon; he'd been on the ship the last time it was active. So much time had passed, he had seen so much and yet he still didn't understand what that mark did.

He knelt, shifting his sword back so he could peer under the bed, the little dragons liked to feel secure to sleep; they were still curled together. A hand pressed to his shoulder and the Khaleesi knelt next to him, reaching out and calling the little ones by name and they eagerly came to her.

By the time they were on the street the little dragons rode happily, one on each of their shoulders as they looked around. As they headed back through the market he frowned, quickly realizing that they had picked up a tail. The Khaleesi had stopped at a few stalls, picking up a few things to tuck into the satchel she carried; he suspected it was for their home.

He could see the dragons out over the sea, waiting for her to call to them; but as they approached the harbour, he tried to pick out their shadow from the crowds. Jorah shifted his hand to the hilt of his sword as he saw that there was a crowd waiting for them there too.

And then he picked out a face at the front of crowd and froze, the woman approached; holding out her hands. "We will come."

"You are home, you do not have to be afraid here." The Khaleesi replied and Jorah glanced between them; realizing she wasn't reaching out.

"I am yours. Let me come with you; let us." The woman pleaded, raising her outstretched arms to show them her wrists.

Yesterday he'd carried her from the ship when she was unable to walk, the wounds from chains deep in flesh. But the scars were not in the pattern of chains, Jorah stepped forward and reached out to touch them; the mark on his chest sung.

"You do not know the power you have though you pay the price, but then you are a guardian; the blood of the ancient runs through your veins." A smooth voice spoke behind them. "Born from the salt of the sea, as much as she is salt and smoke, she forged her weapon well, and then forged those that you carry."

"Who are you?" The Khaleesi demanded, they both wheeled to find a woman standing squarely behind them.

"I have waited a very long time for you." The woman's eyes roamed over them as though she didn't even see the crowd behind them; but Jorah stared at her.

The young woman had dark auburn hair and deep green eyes; he caught the Khaleesi's gaze sliding to him; the woman had avoided her question. Pulling off a dark cloak she revealed a deep red robe, he dropped his gaze, he didn't know her name but the Red Priestesses of R'hllor were common in the East; he'd even met one at Winterfell.

"Be careful of this woman Khaleesi." He murmured, feeling her eyes lock onto him.

"I have met the Red Priestesses before." She eyed him, her gaze sliding to the mark that was covered on his chest. "I have heard even more of them, one made a prophecy of me, but she also burned a child alive."

"You know there are many kinds of magic, but it has been centuries since the world has known true magic." The woman stepped closer and looking directly at him as she reached out; wrapping a hand around the Khaleesi's wrist. "You may not know me, but you know my magic now. You know I have not come to harm her."

"Why have you come? What is your name?" The Khaleesi asked, her voice insistent now; she had jerked her wrist free.

"I am Kinvara, the flame of truth and light of wisdom." The woman stepped back, finally looking to the crowd behind them. "I have come to serve you."

"How did you get here?" The Khaleesi demanded, and Kinvara nodded to a ship at anchor farther out; a furled flag appeared to be blood red. "Then you may sail for Old Valyria, bring any here who wish to come."

And he watched the Khaleesi return to the woman who had first approached them; taking both her hands. "If you want to come with me, you come for yourself. You belong to no one; you are not a possession to be owned."

He struggled to focus on the conversation that followed, his eyes were drawn back to the woman's scars. The image played through his mind, it took them most of the day, but it would take the ship many days to reach Valyria.

…

She ran her hand along the stone as she wandered out of the house, it felt good to be home. Jorah had spent most of the morning exploring, looking for homes that could be made suitable for those who would arrive on that ship.

Daenerys glanced down the walkway, she knew he had found a few homes on this waterway that were usable; but she did not see the little boat. As she wandered down the walkway she glanced up as a small blue dragon launched across to a building on the other side; the dragons were starting to get the hang of flying.

It bothered her that they were preparing to welcome people to live here, but she had not yet sent the dragons for their friends; for people who had been beside her from the start. Yet with what she had learned she hesitated; she had asked them to support her nephew. She hoped Grey Worm would not leave if he thought the Unsullied were needed; but was it right to make them choose?

She came to the end of the walkway and then climbed the stairs to one of the dragon perches; her grown dragons soared overhead. She climbed onto her son's back and urged him up into the sky, soaring over the ruins. Jorah had asked if she wanted to come with him this morning, but she knew she would only slow him down; the work he did was necessary.

Daenerys scanned the waterways and then leaned into Drogon's shoulder; her son would know how to find him. But Jorah was not in the ruins, Drogon soared low over the water, following the waterway out, past the platform where they had first camped and beyond to where the stone men lived in the ruined wall; near the shores.

She spotted him through the mist, he looked up as the dragons' shadows passed above them; she pointed to the platform. Drogon landed on the steps, letting her dismount before he rose to find a perch on the ruined columns; Rhaellys and Jahara soon joined their older siblings. Daenerys roamed to the pool near the center, the dragon did not rise to meet her; it would lurk deep in the pool until Jorah approached.

The waters did not react to her, and her dreams had shown her that the dragon lords of the past had gone to great lengths to summon the dragon from the depths. Yet none succeeded, their magic did not call to the waters, and her gaze rose to her children; her magic was called to them.

Fire returned dragons to this world, in flames her guardian had rose from the grave, and she had forged dragon steel again. She did not believe that was all she could do, but she struggled to find the signs in the nation built by dragons. Had the dragon lords abandoned their magic completely? Why had the dragon lords wanted the guardian's magic so badly?

She wanted answers, she wanted them before there was a priestess here who knew more about their magic than they did. As Jorah appeared out of the mist, jumping from the boat to pull it up, she wandered further back. "Khaleesi, be careful."

Daenerys paused, she knew his concern, the strange chamber that had trapped Jorah when they first arrived. She could see the strange runes carved into the stone, and the polished tiles stacked aside where Jorah had found his way out; the stone felt warm beneath her hands.

He drew close, she liked that his hand came to rest on the small of her back; the younger dragons came to them. Rhaellys eagerly found her way between them, hopping up to sit on a crumbled section of the wall.

"What do you think this room was for?" She murmured; she had seen the great chamber in her dreams; but she did not understand the magic of it.

"Fire." Jorah replied and when she frowned, he continued. "In the pool I've seen fire burning in this chamber."

"What do you think of that woman? Kinvara, she said you were paying a price for your magic." He was her weapon, that was what the Red Priestess said; she wasn't wrong. "I think your own pain is the price of your magic."

When her hand rested on his chest, she saw the slight wince cross his face; that mark was still sore. He had been in pain the night they arrived in the Summer Isles, he'd been in pain when he came from the flames; and when Nahyan had been in her arms. He hadn't reacted when Kinvara took her wrist.

"I'll pay that price, but I do not trust her." His gaze was flat, she understood that. "Why did she find you in the Summer Isles and not Volantis? The Red Temple is in Volantis, we were in Volantis before we came here; we did not plan to go to the Summer Isles."

"She has her own magic." Daenerys murmured; he was right. "But yours, mine; together it is more powerful. Your magic healed Samara, she wants to come to Valyria, they all do because they believe in the dragons' magic. We need to know what we can do."


	26. Chapter 26

She watched her children take flight, heading to the flames to sleep for the night, Rhaellys went with the grown dragons. Daenerys had watched her first sons grow as she journeyed the East, but it seemed here they grew even faster. Rhaegal might never catch up to Drogon in size, but her sons flourished just as the young ones did and their fire grew hotter. Jahara still preferred to be close and had made her lair in the ruined structure behind their home.

Daenerys turned and headed down the stairs to find that Jorah had settled on the couch the second volume spread across his lap; he'd finally finished the first. He looked up as she crossed to him and settled beside him; eying the strange characters.

"Will you read it to me?" He shifted as she nestled into his side and he began to turn the pages. "From where you are."

Jorah cleared his throat and she rested her hand on his thigh, waiting patiently. "The first to nobly agree to shift was Lord Velyreos, yet no matter the offering the mark of the guardian did not rise upon his flesh, but his flesh began to turn to scale and the healers were unable to help him; those of his house soon followed. None had seen such a condition and no magic could offer relieve those who suffered of it. And within the decade, after the guardians fled to the West, the dragon's curse spread rapidly. The magic of the strongest sorcerers could not touch it, and no man touched survived; though some lived on many years."

"It was the first of many strange ailments that befell the great houses of Valyria, it was the beginning of the end and from the ends of the world the guardians watched. For the lives of those branded by the dragons' fire watched as generation after generation of dragon died; none were able to forge the bond of a guardian and lost their lives as their magic turned to ash." Jorah's voice lilted slightly as he read, likely considering the words as he read them.

"The doom happened before this was written then?" Daenerys asked quietly.

"I believe the books are written by several generations a family." Jorah rubbed his face. "This book references times before and in the years after the doom. The authors write with the same voice, but the accounts span more than a thousand years."

He paused for a moment. "Though it does not say if these men observed the events as they happened; or in the waters of the pool."

"Have you seen the future in the guardian's pool?" She asked quietly, she knew he had seen the past and that the dragon in that pool waited only for him.

Jorah only shook his head, but she could see that his mind was slipping away from her; something in that passage had caught his attention. She was tempted to ask him, but she knew he was hesitant to speak of his magic and that night as she slept beside him, she watched men labouring to build a great house in a heavy wood.

Though towering trees were cleared to make room for the stronghold it was built of stone; and the men who began construction completed it. Between towering trees those men wed, raised children and eked out a hard life in a new land, outliving the wives they took and many of their children, and their children's children. But the men roamed deep into the forest to a rocky pool, letting their blood fall into the waters and watching the events unfold on the other side of the world; though no dragon rose to consume the blood.

Over the shoulders of these men she watched as the sorcerers ordered their dragons to set fire to the chamber beyond the guardian's pool, the flames danced in many colors and she saw hazy images within them; but none were looking at the fire. They stared instead into a murky pool that did not shift, and the men who watched from far away looked away as a body fell into the pool; Daenerys heard their sighs.

…

The young dragon watched him go, it was barely dawn; but he hadn't had any luck the day before. He had wondered how Valyria became the colony for those dying of grey scale, and at the end of the first book the author began to write of a strange disease that consumed men's flesh.

He'd read a little more of it last night and he carefully bound his arms and hands so none of his flesh showed before rowing out to the jungle near the mouth of the waterway. The ship from the Summer Isles would land on the Southern shore, this Northern shore created the passageway between the cluster of islands and the mainland; the smoking sea that engulfed their home.

Shipping detoured to the South around the ruined city, sailors and pirates alike feared the smoking sea, the Northern passage especially; only one type of ship came this way. And those on it never saw their homes or loved ones again, he'd been meant for this place once; but a young man had risked life and career to help him. And he'd lived.

And then the dragons had brought him back from the grave, the witch claimed his Queen and her dragons forged him in flame, and the books spoke of forging the bond between heart and guardian in such an unbreakable way. There had to be a reason. He had to have a purpose other than looking into the past, and there had to be a reason the mark he wore could bring him to his knees.

Jorah let the boat float slowly through the misty waters, his eyes scanning the shore for his quarry. He had no desire to fight a grown man, the stone men were beyond reason or comprehension and he wanted one alive; he knew the one he wanted. It was only a matter of finding the little one again.

As he turned a bend, he saw it, the child was far from where he'd first encountered it; he'd searched the area where they'd camped yesterday. Turning to boat for shore he met that gaze, the child stared back at him unflinchingly as the boat bumped against the shore; meters from her.

He was not sure he could reason with this child either, but he was betting the little one was struggling to survive and taking out a piece of roast meat he'd saved from the evening meal the night before he unwrapped the cloth a little and took a bite himself; seeing the child's eyes lock onto it. Closing the small package, he heaved it to the shore, swinging himself over the side to secure his boat.

The child snatched up the cloth and tore at it with teeth, not bothering to unwrap it; Jorah eased closer. He carried only a short dagger, he knew his sword would create fear and he'd left it in the bottom of the boat. As the child realized he was closing it turned to run, only to be confronted by a silver dragon; not much bigger than a cat.

But it bought him enough time to get his arms around the child who immediately began to thrash against him. He bundled the child in a blanket and hauled it back to the boat, Jahara flew along beside him, and Jorah lurched under her weight when she decided to land on his shoulder; they were quickly gaining strength.

He bound the blanket about the child with rope and then set course back to the platform; a silver dragon perched on his prow. Jorah wasted no time in tying off the boat and hauling the child up the steps; the task made difficult but its struggles.

Laying the child beside the pool, still struggling against its ropes, Jorah stood; watching as Jahara landed at the edge of the pool; looking curiously at the dragon that rose to meet Jorah's call. The dragon in the water opened it's great jaws in a silent roar and he wondered if he was doing the right thing, but he thought of the woman on that slave ship; her scars had become the marks of the cloth he'd used to wash away the blood and grime.

Jorah reached to his hip to take his dagger, but the scar on his hand opened of its own accord; and blood welled in the wound. He dipped his hand into the water, watching it shimmer as the blood disappeared; the dragon sunk deeper into the pool. Carefully he loosened the rope about the child, his gloves back in place as he got a hold of an arm disfigured by grey scale.

"Its okay. I won't hurt you." He tried yet again to reassure the child who fought hard against him as he levered the squirming weight up and over the edge of the pool.

Jorah had intended to lower the child into the water, but nothing was going to ease the panic, or the fight and his grip slipped. Dropping to his knees he caught the child's wrist to stop it sinking like a rock; the child could swim and wasted no time in trying to get out of the water.

Taking a steadying breath, he removed his gloves and as soon as he grabbed an arm the child froze; his chest clenched. The waters danced and as he fought to keep a grip on the child who was finally still the world went black.

…

She woke alone, but that was not unusual; more often than not Jorah woke before her. But he was not in the house and as she stepped onto the roof garden Jahara screeched at her, circling above her head as Drogon landed on the perch; the little silver dragon darting precariously around him before taking off.

Drogon lowered his wing, extending it at an awkward angle so she could climb it rather than the steps, making clicking noises in his throat; he wanted her to mount. And when she did, he didn't wait for her command, he hardly waited for her to settle on his back before launching up and into the air.

With only a few flaps of his wings he'd caught up to Jahara and then soared past her, tipping his wing to circle down towards the platform where the guardian's pool was; and where their boat was moored. She frowned at that, but then she saw Jorah slumped at the side of the pool.

Fear tightened in her chest as Drogon set down, Jorah wasn't moving but as she hurried towards him, she saw someone was. She paused as the child stared back at her, soaking wet and shivering; greyscale disfigured the child's face and visible flesh. What had happened here?

The child backed away as she knelt beside her friend, she saw no marks upon him, but he did not stir as she touched his shoulder; but when her fingers traced over the dragon's mark her vision swum. The mark was hot to the touch and as she lay her palm over it both of the dragons present began to screech loudly.

Jahara leapt from her perch and hopped towards the alcove, spitting a small flame of fire at it; the flames shimmered before they vanished. Daenerys shifted her hand, pressing it firmly to his chest as she glanced at Drogon, knowing her older dragon had far more power behind his flame. "Dracarys."

The dragon's flame danced within the stone chamber, arcing up the tower, flames that she had seen melt stone remained within the stone and burned on without kindling; beneath her hand Jorah stirred and she heard a voice in the flames. Deep and ominous, it thundered around them, roaring over the waters as mist rolled in; held back by the flames. " _Guardian and Heart call as one, the dragons surge to power again in fire and blood. The strength of your sword is not known to this world, not even to you; his power calls upon your fire._ "

The flames continued to lick at the stones, the runes on them glowed eerily and Daenerys shifted, carefully opening Jorah's shirt until her fingers traced over his skin; the mark looked painful as it had that morning in the Summer Isles. But blue eyes opened, and he shifted, though not strong enough to sit.

"Be still." She whispered, Jorah groaned as the flames licked higher and showed her a ship that sailed upon the smoking sea; it was only as she watched a group of people herded into a small boat and saw their affliction that she realized what was happening.

A gasp behind her made her turn, but Daenerys had already seen this in her dream; she had seen the children accursed with the disease banished to die in the smoking city of her ancestors. The child lay behind her, a little girl, staring at her own hand as it became flesh.

_"The guardian is a weapon forged to the Dragons' Heart. Dragons are fire incarnate; their Heart is fire and flesh. Only the guardian may bind fire and flesh to the world of man."_ The voice echoed across the platform before it disappeared with a hiss as the fire went out.

Daenerys pulled Jorah closer as he shifted, pushing himself up and she realized he was trying to get a look at the child behind them. She was unable to lift him, and as Jorah struggled to even stand, she knew he would not be able to row back to their home if he could even get to the boat.

It was the child who helped her get him back to their house and up to the bed; ignoring his protests as she removed his boots and hung his weapons where they belonged. He would not be rising from that bed today, but she did not go far.

Once he settled, Jorah slept the whole of the day without stirring, Daenerys checked on him often, each time taking a moment to lay her hand on the dragon's mark. Heat throbbed within that mark, the flesh a deep red as though he had just been struck, but when her palm ran down over his chest and belly his skin cooled.

The child was another matter, Daenerys altered one of her own gowns, so the little girl had something to wear that covered her. Any food she put before the child quickly disappeared and so Daenerys sat across from her; watching as the child took another sip of water.

"Did you have greyscale?" She asked in the common tongue, the child stared at her blankly, so she tried again; this time in high Valyrian.

"Mama said I had the dragon curse." The child whispered. "I had to go away."

"I think it is gone now." She gave the little girl a reassuring smile, much of the East spoke versions of Valyrian, hailing back to the height of the freehold. "My name is Daenerys. What is yours?"

"Kyri." The child looked at her with big eyes, she seemed to be of sound mind and less skittish now that they could communicate. "How did the man lift my curse?"

"You were not cursed, you were ill." Daenerys told her, choosing her words carefully; where had the girl come from that she believed the disease to be a curse? But how had Jorah known the waters of that pool would heal the child?

Kyri did not have the marks of greyscale now, Daenerys had watched them melt away as Jorah writhed on the platform. She knew there were ways to treat the disease, Samwell Tarly had used one of them to treat Jorah; but this was far different. Jorah's treatment had been manmade, dangerous and painful, Kyri had not suffered as she healed, the disease leaving her as if it was driven away by Jorah's strength. Or perhaps his power, the voice that had called from the flames had said he was seeking her power; but what part had her magic been meant to play?

It was only two days later that the ship from the Summer Isles arrived on their shores, and Jorah struggled to help get everyone settled; she knew he did not want to admit that he still felt weak. But she knew it well enough to see it, and she suspected the high priestess Kinvara saw it too; the woman tracked them both with fascination.

She knew it was good to have people here, to be a part of a community again; however, she enjoyed the privacy of her home. They brought skills and trades that would be important to rebuilding this city, some working for themselves for the first time in their life, but they also brought the experiences of slavery and a hope for this new chance that seemed to be palpable. It coursed through them, charging the very environment around them, experiencing this place that had terrified hardened sailors and pirates for generations, adapting to life in a warm and misty environment and learning to live with dragons.

Her older children were not concerned by the addition of people to the city, mostly ignoring the people who stared at them in wonder. The younger two were less experienced and watched the newcomers with curiosity, the people had the good sense to stay well away from them. Still Daenerys tasked Jorah with keeping the silver dragon with him and kept Rhaellys with her at all times, the dragons were well fed, flying out to sea to catch all the fish they could want, but she wanted no accidents or foolish attempts to approach her children.

Kyri stayed close to them as well, Jorah had told them both briefly of the accounts he had been reading of, that the dragon lord's attempts to become dragons had yielded a terrible disease, that stole his flesh and his humanity; destroying any whom he touched. Jorah believed the disease had survived the doom, likely passed from master to slave and from there around the world, becoming the disease they knew as greyscale; and what Kyri had been told as a curse.

The child had nodded with big eyes as he spoke, they sat across from her and she knew Jorah was choosing his words carefully to avoid scaring the little girl. But Daenerys wasn't sure he saw how she looked at him with the same wonder she watched the dragons with, she tracked his every move when he was in a room and shifted into his side when they left the house. He made that child feel safe, he had healed her and it was something none of them would ever forget and so it fell to them to give that child the family she could scarcely remember; Daenerys knew all to well what it was to grow up without a family.

Later Jorah had read her the passage, and explained what he had believed, the guardians had divided themselves, going East and West from Valyria and taking their magic with them. When he took her hand and lay it gently on his chest the mark felt cool again, she felt the connection between them; and she knew it was not something that could be replicated. Jorah had always had a way of reaching out to her, he had from the moment she met him though neither of them had recognized what it was.

It was not a bond the dragon lords had been able to recreate, the Valyrian Freehold had survived for a time, but the seeds of the doom had been planted in the severing of the bond between dragon, heart and guardian; the guardians had watched the doom come for generations before it fell over the nation. And in the centuries that passed it had never been set right again.


	27. Chapter 27

The fire burned hot in the chamber just beyond the pool and as he opened his palm, he felt the warmth of her touch; the Khaleesi was not the only one watching. From across the water way people watched quietly, curious at what they meant to do, but the Khaleesi stood close, having just commanded her dragons to light the alcove; and the water of the pool had begun to bubble.

That the two forms of magic were connected was something they had known, but they were learning how closely woven it was. The dragon rose to swallow the blood and they looked back into the past once more; but this time they weren't in Westeros.

Slavery ravaged Essos, a few became wealthy as thousands suffered, but Jorah frowned as he noticed subtle changes in the scene before them. It was cold, and Jorah frowned, the Valyrian Freehold was at its height; but as they enslaved one continent another struggled under the power of another force. And it was making its way across the sea; and he recognized the symbols of it.

"The dead." The Khaleesi whispered as they watched ice creeping through the new city of Bravos; founded by slaves.

"I don't believe it is so simple. That mark, made on the tree is the mark of the Children." But he'd believed them to be pushed far into the North by the First Men, yet what they saw in the pool was only the symbols of them. Were their marks and symbols some sort of magic? Or were the legends true? "They joined with the First Men during the long night; but no one knows where they came from."

"They come from the Lands of Always Winter with magic as dark as the death they created." A voice spoke softly behind them and they turned to find Kinvara watching from a distance. "Death thrives in the darkness, but their magic is bought with blood."

"And ours is not?" The Khaleesi questioned, lifting his hand; her fingers traced his palm gently.

"Yours is the magic of the ancients; bound to serve and defend the dragon heart." Kinvara drew closer, eyes shifting to the Khaleesi. "You were called by the dragons and harness their power. His blood bought your life, but your fire forged him into a guardian of old, to stay at your side."

Jorah eyed the woman silently; Bran had told them something very similar and yet he saw one slight problem with their prophesies. He was not surprised that the witch wanted to keep their magic in competition with that of another; it was no different than the games the high lords played generation after generation. And yet they had both seen the army of the dead.

The Khaleesi closed his hand as Kinvara edged closer still, taking a step away the dragon rose to swallow the scene and the fire burned out in the chamber behind it. It reassured him to know she was still cautious of the woman that already knew enough about them.

"Is my nephew in danger?" The Khaleesi asked quietly.

"The world is in danger Dragon Queen, do not set your heart on the West alone." Kinvara replied, but neither of them missed the plea in her voice.

…

Daenerys watched as Jorah untied the boat, when Jahara landed on his shoulder he nearly caved forward; the young dragon dipped its head to squeal at him. She hid her smile quickly; the dragons were interested in him, but she wondered if some day Jahara would not become his mount. His ancestors might have hidden and married among the First Men, but they had fled Valyria generations before hers; the dragons had called him from the grave.

Her sons had known she needed him, and they were right, and not only for his magic; Jorah was more to her. Far more, but his magic and the history of Valyria mattered as well; the dragon lords believed themselves about the guardians and the world paid a heavy price for it. The dragons seemed to know it, and his magic had played a large part in the younger two's existence.

Jahara and Rhaellys already rivaled the size of her sons when they were two years old, but their scales were different and their temperaments. They flew farther and longer each day, but everything here seemed to shift a little more each day. A market square had grown up just beyond the platform and the people were making Valyria their home.

Jorah was mapping the region, he told her that her forces could comfortably live among the flames; but she knew what he hesitated to say. He believed parts of Valyria should remain wild, the mines abandoned and the flames as refuge for the dragons; but Daenerys did not make him spell it out for she agreed. The fractured islands of Valyria would not become a metropolis, though its defenses would be rebuilt. No, she would build it into a strong hold, of life and power in the center of the world.

"I need to go to Volantis." She told Jorah quietly as they sailed slowly through the waterway towards their home; there were a few things she wanted to do. "I need to know what is happening in the West before I call my people back. And I must learn more about the East."

"Do you want to sail?" Jorah asked, shifting carefully around her to toss the rope across to the dock.

"No." Sailing would mean the trip took several days, and she did not want to be away that long.

They had people here now to think of, and Jorah reminded her that it only took one holding a different opinion to create problems. And then there was the woman that looked after Kyri with her own children, but the little girl still came to see them each day and Daenerys liked seeing her.

The stone men who had survived proved harder to take alive; grown men who fought with madness. But Kyri, like Jorah proved their magic was for more than waging wars. Jorah was promised to be her guardian and weapon, but he was far more to her and after Kyri's visit that day he mounted Drogon with her; the dragon now accustomed to him flying with her.

Rhaegal soared beside them as Daenerys shifted back into his frame, and she felt Jorah's hand slide around her middle to balance her before regaining his hold. They crossed the smoking sea and set out for Volantis; the Red Priestess wanted her to look to the East; but beyond Dragon's Bay she knew little of its politics.

Jorah knew some of it, and he was good at finding information but when they landed in the hills outside the city and sent the dragons back out to sea, they were allowed to do something else. Jorah wore a light shirt with his leather lappet and breeches, he'd wrapped cloth around the hilt of his sword for grip again. Daenerys pulled a thin cloak over her dress and pulled the hood up over her fair hair and as they walked into the city, she curled close into his side; for now, no one knew who they were, and no one cared.

People whispered of seeing the dragons but did not connect the sight to them, and so they listened to the gossip of what was happening in the East and the West, and some about them wandering through the streets. They were allowed to be as close as any other couple in the market, and Jorah's hand rested against her back, sliding their purchases into a satchel on his back.

"No one is speaking of the Lannisters." Daenerys murmured as they stopped at a stall, listening to a man telling the story of the battle for Kings Landing and the Iron Fleet whisking the cowards away. "Do they know anything?"

"Only whispers, the stories haven't come yet. It is possible they have not made port, given the debts they owe the Iron Bank they should head as far East as possible." Jorah replied under his breath, his eyes scanning their surroundings.

"Then they are not in the West to threaten Jon. It is time to send the dragons for my people." Daenerys mused, the idea of seeing their friends again was welcome.

"Should we go then?" Jorah asked, the crowd around the steps began to disperse.

"Not yet, we need to find a temple."

"We've got a priestess at home now." Jorah frowned as they left the market square to approach a sept, Volantis had several options, the port city welcomed people of many faiths.

"We do, but we both know she serves her own interests; and I do not wish to share today with her." Daenerys murmured, fearing if she gave him too much warning, he would find a reason to avoid this; she had for a very long time. "Jorah, I will build Valyria again, but I do not intend to make my ancestors' mistakes. I need you beside me, I want you to be my husband."

"Khaleesi?" There was hesitation in his voice, but it should not be a difficult thing.

"We need to do this together Jorah, if we marry, we bind guardian and heart." She turned into his chest, running her palm along his cheek; she wanted to believe he wanted this. "I want to be with you."

She saw him swallow and blue eyes searched her face, they had been living together for some time now and he had been her loyal advisor from the start. But as they built Valyria into a force in this world attention would come to their leadership and eventually to the succession and who would champion the dragons after them.

"You are sure?" He asked, his jaw tipped up slightly as he eyed her; she could see the caution in his face.

"Yes Jorah." She promised. And then he nodded, Daenerys smiled, feeling a little relieved as his palm smoothed over her back; before dipping his head to kiss her forehead.

Any child they had would be born with a name, and none could come between them looking for their own power. There might be strategy in this marriage, they both were born to great houses and understood duty; but today they had more. It was a simple ceremony, but it was theirs, without fanfare or titles; their hands bound together to symbolize the twinning of their lives. It was something they should have done some time ago she thought as they flew home.

When Drogon landed on the perch above their home Rhaegal circled above; the dragons sensed the command she intended to issue. And as they climbed down, she paused, her son watched her dismount and she stroked his snout for a moment; she would miss them. They would be gone several days, and it would take many more weeks before their friends arrived from across the Narrow Sea. She hoped they would come, that they had survived the battle for Kings Landing; and that they would accept this place as their home.

But Jorah's hand rested lightly on her back to her watch the dragons go, Rhaellys chased after them though she wasn't sure how far the young dragon would get. When they disappeared completely into the night sky she turned into his chest for a moment, things were beginning to come together.

"They will be here soon." Jorah murmured, easing back to light a torch; setting it in the holder on the wall.

Before he could turn back Daenerys stepped close and ran her palm up his spine; nudging him towards the bench. Pushing him down to sit with the stars spread out above them, the first time she had been with a man was beneath the night sky, but it was not a night she wanted to think of; tonight, was different.

Jorah's touch was familiar already, his hands slid over her hips as she slipped the fastening of her dress; letting the thin fabric fall away. She settled into his lap, leaning down to capture his mouth as her fingers eagerly went to his shirt.

She felt the rough scar on the palm of his hand, tracing her side and her belly; teasing the waistband of her riding breeches. Then cupping her breast, before he pressed his mouth to the tender peak, Daenerys did not hide her groan as he took her. Their bodies melded together, touching and teasing, they knew what the other liked.

Leaning against his chest in the aftermath, Daenerys traced her fingers along the dragon's mark; would it have been simpler if he'd always had this mark? His skin was warm against hers, and his arms made her feel safe; his fingers ran absently through her hair. Jorah had always been what she needed, and together they would be something more.


	28. Chapter 28

He had a wife now and Jorah could not help but watch her with curiosity, she had sprung the notion of marriage on him without warning; but he should not have been surprised. They lived together, shared their bed and their magic; they had for some months. Yet he hadn't been sure she would ever make such a choice; she knew he would never leave; she did not have to give herself.

Yet she chose to, she married him though he was marked for her, not in ceremony or for alliance; but because she wanted to. And that meant more to him. She had sent the dragons for the Unsullied and the remaining Dothraki that same night, and each afternoon since her children returned Jorah watched her take to the air to look for their friends.

Jorah watched her go and then joined a crew of men clearing rubble on a nearby island; breaking up the stone to make garden plots. They found shards of pottery and artifacts of steel in the ruins, he said nothing when they disappeared into pockets; these people had few possessions. They found interesting marks on some of the stones and while his valyrian was still improving Jorah could piece it together.

Most of what they found was everyday information, guideposts of sorts, even graffiti that had been carved out; but he recognized other symbols here and there; the language of the guardians. Others had known the language at one time then, the symbols only appeared in what he suspected had been graffiti; it held meaning to the people long after they were gone. The guardians had been buried by the dragon lords and then by the doom, but the dragons had remembered and now both he and the Dragon Queen were learning what it meant.

Jorah looked up as he heard a screech overhead and saw the dragons circle twice before heading back out to sea. Jahara lingered and the men working with him cowered as the young dragon swooped down; catching his shoulder in her claws to knock him backwards before following her siblings. Jorah groaned as he pulled himself from the dust, thankfully her claws were still small; the problem was he didn't know how to break her habit.

He made his way home; he knew that was where she would land; suspecting the dragons celebrated with their mother. It meant their friends were close and with them news from the West; news that could be relied upon.

"They will be here today or tomorrow, I saw both Missandei and Grey Worm." She landed and dismounted, excited with her report though Jorah was hesitant to remind her of the distance between what dragons and ships could cover in a day.

"I will make sure everything is ready." He promised.

"Jahara struck you again?" She gave him a sharp look and Jorah winced; he was favoring that shoulder. "How bad is it?"

"It will be fine." He reassured, unable to stop her hands going for his shirt.

"She has claimed you, but she is not gentle." Daenerys touch was gentle, her fingers ran over the bruises on his skin and her concern plain. "She doesn't touch the mark though."

"Perhaps she will grow out of it, she was used to being carried." He mused; she could do a lot more damage than she did; her claws were already long enough to cut him, yet she rarely did.

He turned her attention to preparations for their friend's arrival, the house next to them would be for Grey Worm and Missandei; but she had seen a number of ships. Only a few Dothraki had survived the battle of Winterfell, but there were thousands of Unsullied who he suspected would remain loyal to her. Homes had been cleared and furnished, but he was wondering how men who had spent their lives in army camps and barracks were going to feel about settling down.

But the fleet did not arrive that evening, or the next morning, and Jorah mounted behind her, Drogon flew low over the smoking sea heading West. It was several hours before they sighted the fleet, flying the Targaryen sails; Jorah ran his hand along her back.

"The wind is low; it will be tonight at the earliest." He called over her shoulder, they dipped low of the shift and saw her smile as Missandei noticed the young dragons who had flown with them today; pointing them out to Grey Worm.

Rhaellys landed on the rail of one ship watching the men on board, then he frowned; Grey Worm was trying to hail them. The man used battle signals, telling them to look to the South; indicating the spotters on the crows nest. They'd seen something in the night.

"Can we head south?" He asked her as they circled again; Grey Worm repeated his report.

Drogon and Rhaegal soared to the South and Jorah scoured the sea, the two young dragons tucked themselves beneath the adults' wings; riding the air currents they created. Suddenly Jahara appeared over his shoulder and instinctively he leaned down into Daenerys; now was not the time for her game.

But she screeched over his shoulder and he saw Daenerys cringe too, he tried to see over the dragon's wing; they were over a string of small rocky islands. The smoking sea held its secrets and he suspected that there were a few sailors who used it to their advantage. The dragons flew low and circled back, through the smoke he made the outline of a single ship.

"Who is it?" The Khaleesi asked, the dragons circled again, and Jorah frowned; he couldn't tell.

The Lannisters would have more than one ship, but as Drogon glided lower he shifted away from her a little; readying his sword and preparing to dismount quickly. It could be anyone, pirates, smugglers or a ship in trouble; this was a desolate place, and many sailors feared the ruins of Valyria and the smoking sea itself.

As the dragons landed, he looked for any signs of movement, the boat was tilted at an awkward angle and he realized it had been run aground on this barren rocky shore. Jorah quickly climbed from Drogon's back, stalking towards the wreck; as he rounded the hull a man rose from the rocks; swinging an oar at him.

He slashed through it easily and caught the piece the man still held to jerk him forward; this man did not know how to fight. His eyes scanned the rocks for another fight, he heard something; but saw only the man now kneeling before him, begging in a language he did not know. The man cried and ducked his head to the ground as Jahara circled above him, giving another ear shattering screech.

With the dragons keeping the man where he was Jorah rounded the ship, climbing onto the tilted deck; he could already smell death. And found it, the sailors had died on the deck and as he climbed down into the hold, he found it nearly empty.

"Jorah?" Daenerys called to him as he went to the captain's cabin for the logbook; relieved to see it was written in the common tongue.

"It's been scuttled, probably pirates." He passed it to her before he scanned the rocks; they were not alone, and that man did not fight for himself.

His fine clothes were dirty and tattered, Jorah climbed the rocks, watching the man below; he was getting closer. Above him a rock tumbled down and he glanced down one more time before climbing up to find a small cave and people cowering within. Whoever had attacked this ship had been strategic, the sailors, even the ship's boys who might have known how to survive were dead, and the cargo was gone.

Jorah helped the injured men down to the shore and made his way back one last time to carry down a child who burned with fever. The man who had attempted to defend them began to plead again and Daenerys drew closer as her hand touched his side, he felt a shock run through his body and frowned; glancing back to see her eyes closed.

"The Ironborn." She whispered, her voice haunted and eyes stayed closed; could she see what had happened here?

Then he felt her hand on his belt, he hefted the boy's weight to free his hand; she drew his knife across the palm. Her small hands cupped his, laying it against the child's chest, a deep gash festered there. Jorah felt the heat from her magic race through his hand as she pressed him forward until the waves lapped around his knees. He felt as though he had been through a fierce battle as the water soaked his breeches; but looked down to see child's wound closing.

"Stay with them, I will take Drogon and have Grey Worm send a ship for them." Daenerys ordered as he climbed back to the shore, laying the child beside the man who had tried to protect him.

He nodded, sitting on the rocks as Drogon took flight, Rhaegal followed but Jahara perched beside him. The log detailed the cargo, the wealth of the Jade Sea; destined for sale in Bravos. So Cersei Lannister had turned to the Greyjoy's way of survival, he doubted that would satisfy a woman used to luxury for long.

…

The bulk of her army arrived in Valyria that night, one ship had sailed south for the merchants and then for Volantis to leave them in a port city. Jorah and Grey Worm had taken the small boat, showing the Unsullied Commander their shores and no doubt learning what had happened in the South as she caught up with Missandei.

They sat on the roof of her friend's new home, next to her own; Drogon and Rhaegal perched on the raised stand between their homes; Rhaellys was playing before them. She listened to her friend tell of the division in Westeros, and told her of all that had happened to her and Jorah, but most of all she was just glad to have her close again; there were certain things that she could not discuss with Jorah. When the sun was low Grey Worm joined them, Daenerys excused herself and Missandei murmured that she would come in the morning.

She went home to find Jorah falling asleep trying to read, with a soft smile she drew him up and towards their bed; healing sapped his strength. And the day had been long, he needed to rest before he collapsed; she curled against his chest to ensure he stayed. Curling closer as the dream caught her, but she anchored herself to him as the images washed over her; she felt sure she knew why the Lannisters had not landed yet.

"Daenerys." She woke to Jorah's voice, thick with sleep and she realized he was rubbing her back; her hand had been digging into his shoulder. "You're alright."

She sighed, running her hand along his chest in silent apology; he was used to her habits. And he knew how the dreams transported her, she had been rocked on the decks of ships in this one; far more than the one they found yesterday.

Watching as an invisible bystander as ships were looted, on some the men fought back defending their goods and lost their lives as the wealth of their ship was stolen. But none made port, sinking beneath the waves or limping desperately towards land as the wealth of the marauders grew.

She knew that money was not for anything good, the Golden Company had been decimated in the battle for King's Landing; but the Ironborn had escaped with much of their fleet. Jorah might be able to see the past in the waters, but it was in her dreams that she could see, but what she saw was not always real. This morning however she felt sure it was true and that was disheartening.

When Missandei knocked softly Jorah was nearly ready for the day and took his sword belt as he headed for the door. She smiled at her friend; he would get used to having her around their room; Daenerys was glad.

"Do you like the house?" She knew it would be empty yet, but they would go to the little market today and find a few things to make it feel like home; but she wasn't sure what her friends' style would be.

"There is a lot of space." Missandei murmured softly, gently parting her hair; she hid her smile as her friend frowned. Jorah had done his best, but it had been a long time since Missandei had worked it smooth and shiny.

"It is your home now; this is our home; we will make it a good place." She assured her, hoping they could be happy in this place. While she had been secreted away as baby for her own safety, Missandei had been stolen away from her home and family, forced into slavery; they both deserved a home.

"You kept your promise to us Your Grace, the dragons came, and we followed them home." Missandei murmured, weaving several braids together carefully.

They visited, spending more time than was necessary that morning; but she had missed this. But as she lay the thin slip aside and reached for her dress, she saw Missandei frowning. She slipped into the light fabric, catching it around her hips and sat to pull on the breeches.

"Have you been feeling well lately?" Missandei asked quietly, helping her into the riding breeches.

"Enough, it has been difficult understanding how our magic works." But she noticed Missandei had fastened her dress much tighter than Jorah did when he helped her.

"Has your blood come this moon?"

"It rarely comes when it should." But her hand crept down, running lightly over her belly; when had her blood last come? It never came with the moons, but she hadn't worried over it; her womb had been empty since her first son died.

"Your body has changed Your Grace; I think you are to have a child." Missandei told her gently, and Daenerys stood very still; almost afraid to hope. "I saw many of Master Kraznys' women make the change."

She had given up the hope of a child of her own a long time ago, she had lay with two men without care and without a babe; but Jorah was different. Jorah had put a child in her belly, his magic twinned with hers; more powerful that that of the witch who cursed her.

"It will be okay." Her friend whispered.

"I am not afraid." She took Missandei's hand, the blood of Valyria grew stronger within her; they would build this world for the children who would live here after them.

Climbing the stairs, she encouraged her friend to join her, while the people here might travel by boat, Jorah and Grey Worm had theirs; and Drogon lowered his wing. Missandei mounted hesitantly behind her and Daenerys took her on a tour of the islands. Soaring over the mountains, around to the outer walls where men worked to rebuild the ancient walls, they saw small boats of the Unsullied who had recently arrived also being shown the perimeters; and out to their ships anchored at the mouth of the bay; just beyond the city walls.

Already it had changed since the first time she had flown over the land, and when Drogon set down on the platform of the ruined temple she heard Missandei's gasp; trying to remember her own reaction to seeing it. The great pillars still lay where they fell, collapsed when the doom sank up on it, but the steps had been cleared and the marble floor repaired; the magic here was done in the light of day.


	29. Chapter 29

Daenerys kept her secret, cautious of letting her hopes get too high, and yet she was excited for what a child would mean for this fledgling nation. Far from a booming city Valyria was beginning to become a kingdom with the varied cultures that it needed. The Unsullied, used to living in close quarters had chosen to share homes throughout the islands, living among the men and women still learning what freedom meant.

While the Dothraki who came, only a shadow of the horde that first followed her across the Narrow Sea took to the hills of the Southern Flames away from where the ruined city had been built. The steep hills of grass for their horses to graze upon as they built a city in their own way, a few even found wives in the new city. Daenerys held hope for their way of life, though not as volatile or nomadic as they had been in the past.

But the city was growing, the workforce of the East had been based in slave labor for generations, free now, they had stone masons, armorers and carpenters; bakers, seamstresses and farmers tending newly planted garden plots. Their need to venture out to Volantis and other cities was quickly diminishing, though they had a few merchants were regularly making the trip; and reporting back that word of their city was spreading. Before them none who visited the ruins were said to survive for long, and yet here they had found freedom and healing.

When Jorah came in, she knew something was on his mind, and it was not going to be good. His face was grim and though he came to her, pressing a gentle kiss to her cheek; he did not relax.

"What is it?" She asked impatiently.

"I don't know exactly. Black Snake came home today, he reported that there seems to be a large influx of slaves around the docks; that the city seemed to be on edge." Jorah told her as he removed his sword belt and loosened his shirt; he'd sweat through it working out on the waterway.

Jorah was one of the best at guiding the low, heavy barges of stone through the waterways from where the stone masons worked the blocks out to the wall. He only shrugged it off, telling her that he'd grown up sailing rougher waters around Bear Island. And she knew there were other reasons he liked working along that waterway; any boat coming back in passed him as the tall ships had to anchor off the coast.

"Slavery in Volantis was fading." She frowned; her hope had been that slowly the practices of Dragon's Bay would spread.

"It is quieter now, without Slavers Bay the market is smaller, but farther East, even in the Free Cities the practice survives; the wealthy consider man to be property. That it is being done so openly worries me; and I don't know why that port would be a hub unless…"

"They're sending them somewhere." Daenerys murmured quietly, seeing the slight nod he gave.

He poured a cup of wine, she waved away his offer, and then sat down as she thought through the news he brought. Much of their energy had been focused on rebuilding this city, though they ventured out for news, there was news they didn't know.

With the arrival of the Unsullied they had a few more options, yet she was not sure what the best course of action would be; only she knew she had to answer this. Still they were faced with a choice, to intercept the ships, attacking by air and sea to free the slaves; or to do it in the harbour. But without knowing what triggered the shift meant for every man she freed, their lives already destroyed, two more would likely be captured.

"Is there any news of the Lannisters?" She asked, though she knew he would have led with it if there was.

"No." Jorah said quietly, and then he looked into his drink for a moment. "I cannot see them in the pool, I can't find their crimes."

Daenerys stared at him, it was not often that Jorah voluntarily spoke of his magic, but she had not thought of that. It had been nearly a moon since she had dreamed of them; not long after he recovered from healing the boy her dreams of the ships they looted had stopped. The others came, but they remained the same and Jorah had a way of simply sensing she needed him; rolling to toss an arm over her, pulling her back into him when the dreams made her struggle.

She let that conversation die, asking of his day and the work they had been doing before telling him of hers. With Missandei's help they began to take down the names of their people; taking count of the men, women and children who called Valyria home. Learning their trades, and who could read or write.

They found a few young women who had previously belonged to pleasure houses, now they wanted a new life here; they would be Missandei's first students. And from there they would begin to teach the children, in her kingdom all would have the opportunity to learn. Jorah nodded, listening as he finished his drink; they enjoyed finishing the day like this. That evening he helped her get ready for bed, a compromise, Missandei and Grey Worm also had their evening together; but her friend came to help her get ready in the morning.

And before Jorah left the next morning, she drew him into the second room of their home. His map of Valyria dominated the wall, a second smaller one spread over a table showed the whole of Essos; he'd found it on one of their trips to Volantis.

"What is the most likely port the slavers will go to?" In the night she had lay awake, thinking of what he'd said; but when she slept the dreams did not shower her the ships or the slaves in that city.

"They'll head East, Westeros, Bravos and Dragon's Bay; there isn't the demand for that many men in the West." Jorah told her, indicating the major ports to the East.

She sighed, that still left to many, the Tyroshi slavers were infamous, but there were many port cities. And she feared what this news would do to the morale of her people, even if she dealt with the slavers it did not solve the problem; and she could not bring such a number here.

As Jorah updated the larger map, he was continually indicating where people lived, what had been repaired and what needed to be done; Daenerys studied it. "If we were to rise against the slave market, we would fight the Triarch; how vulnerable would we be?"

For if they did such a thing, she knew they must consider their own borders; they could not leave their own city at risk. And to mount an attack the Unsullied would have to sail out with the Navy, it would take most of their forces; as well as her dragons.

"The myths aside, Valyria had natural defenses, the flames and the wall make an overland a foolish attack; the main waterway is too shallow for a galley. Anything with a draft will run aground, but we do not have defenses for our men to work from along the coast." Jorah indicated the mouth of the channel that came in from the Smoking Sea; the sea that kept them shrouded in mist and separated them from the mainland.

"What do we need?"

"Stonework." He sighed, knowing she wanted the idea anyway. "I would build a stronghold on the coast and a second where the river splits around the temple platform." She nodded, noting he indicated one side of the river along the coast and the opposite near the temple; right now, that land was wild. On the coast the men worked rebuilding the wall.

"Why not build over the temple?" She had wondered if it might become a strong hold; her mind drawing upon how she imagined the building might have looked in the past.

"Ideally none would ever breech the channel so far; our borders should be our strength. But it could take a decade or more to build." Jorah murmured; they both knew they might not have so much time to build. Yet they had one other defense, four dragons also roamed the island kingdom.

…

He sensed how the notion of slaves being held just across the Smoking Sea bothered her. Jorah knew she wanted to help them, if it were one ship, they could fly North with the dragons and convince the crew to see her way of thinking. Yet he suspected there was something far larger was at play.

Black Snake had told him most of the slaves seemed to be male, young men and boys; Jorah could follow his trail of thought. But the masters of Astapor had died years ago. Still the skill of the Unsullied had been proven time and time again; and there were many who might want to raise such an army.

Jorah joined the crew working on the wall again, he had Kyri with him today, the little girl sat near his feet as he guided the raft loaded with stone down the channel; today the currents favored him. And he enjoyed watching the child study the shore, but she made him think of an image that kept appearing in the dragon's pool; Kyri was not the child he held.

The child stared up at the jungle and the ancient statues they passed, even after all that she had endured she seemed to be more at ease out here than most of the men. Today she watched Jahara glide along with them, the young dragon's wingspan now as broad as the raft. It was a strange thing to think, but the dragon looked slightly awkward; as though her body needed to grow into her wings.

Jorah turned the raft at the mouth of the river, keeping them in the shallows near the coast. Jahara headed out into the sea, diving down to fish while the raft was unloaded, team worked to shift the large stones op to the base of the wall; and then slowly up the scaffolding.

The wall would offer some of the defense that Daenerys wanted, but rebuilding Valyria was a project that would take years of hard labor. They had a great deal left from the past and could only wonder at how it all had been built; or how many lives had been lost building all of it.

Suddenly a rope snapped, and a man screamed, a blood chilling sound as the crew raced to help. Jorah pushed forward, the hoist rope had given out and though the pillar had been only up a few feet the man had been to close; his leg was trapped. Jorah joined the group, leaning their weight into the rock; trying to roll it backwards, but without the leverage of the scaffolding the weight was difficult to budge.

The trapped man was becoming frantic, struggling and knocking men off balance as they tried to help. Suddenly with a screech Jahara was above them, and men ducked, scattering backwards as the young dragon dipped lower until her claws grazed the rock. He eyed her only a second before hooking the rope still tied around the rock over her claws.

He stayed under her as she beat her wings with all her might, straining upward. She was not strong enough to lift it clear, but she was able to take the weight off the ground; they pulled the injured man free. As the crew carried him back to the boat, they'd take him to the healer; but he doubted if the foot would be saved.

Though Jahara perched herself on the pillar, when he just stared at her she nudged his shoulder with her head until he reached out to stroke her neck. She did not have the size to life the stone, but she had been willing enough to try and smart enough to see they needed help; he was not sure they would have been able to get him free otherwise. Perhaps there was a faster, and safer way to raise the stone for this wall.

When work resumed, he tested the theory with a much lighter cross piece, Jahara easily carried it up; though she dropped it roughly on the platform, screeching at the men who she felt were too close to her. The young dragon lifted all the cross pieces, doing half a day's work in less than an hour; though the platform creaked as she dropped the stone when he was not fast enough to get up to the deck to unhook her claws. After a few rounds Kyri ventured forward, the little girl fearlessly sat on a piece of stone and held up the loop of rope for the dragon's claws; letting him stay above.

That evening he rewarded the young dragon with a side of beef, a treat she hoarded jealously as he told his wife of her feats. Rhaellys tried in vain to steal a piece of the meat and then returned to screech her protest at them; Daenerys soothed her with several fish. Dragons were smarter than they knew, and their powers were still largely unknown; they seemed to bond fiercely to their humans and understand more than a creature should.

"If Jahara can lift one, what could Drogon do?" Daenerys murmured; she had been upset by the injury today.

He was quiet, the adult dragon was far more powerful, yet he knew there would be many challenges in working with the dragons and construction crews. The men were wisely cautious of Jahara, but Drogon dwarfed the young silver dragon, he would need space to lift and drop a load.

His wife stepped into his side and Jorah ran a hand along her back. "I took Drogon up this afternoon, there is a ship West of us; I didn't recognize its sails."

"How close did you get?" He asked quietly, knowing Drogon could protect her; but he wasn't sure what was going on in Essos just now. But something was going on, he could sense it.


	30. Chapter 30

It was the dragon's mark that warned him something was wrong; Jorah woke in a cold sweat and realized he had already woken Daenerys; her hand rested over the mark but did nothing to soothe it. The flesh pulsed beneath her hand, making him uneasy and ignoring her protests he rose, strapping on his sword and roaming the house and then the island; trying to find the source.

But the area around their home was quiet, and before he could venture further than their pier Grey Worm joined him; the man did not question his concern. Yet they found nothing wrong and that it was his unrest that woke his wife was not reassuring; she had not been dreaming.

As dawn broke, he went to the temple platform, standing over the pool he opened his palm and watched the dragon rise up. Daenerys drew close, watching over his shoulder as the scene unfolded before them; but it made little sense.

"I thought you couldn't see the ships." His wife asked quietly, looking at a damaged ship limping through the sea.

"I haven't been able to." He murmured, unsure of the significance of this ship. It was only as he realized that the hazy edges of the image were not the water of the pool lapping against the stone but mist. "It's coming here."

"Why?" Daenerys whispered as Jorah turned, the realization striking him hard and he turned to where Grey Worm watched; the man had heard him.

They did not waste time; he didn't have an answer for her, but they needed to find out quickly. The Unsullied loaded into small boats and they sailed out to the coast, intending to take the ships to cover more ground; but they didn't need to.

Through the thick morning smoke, they saw the ship limping into the deep-water harbour, men gripped their spears tighter as they approached; cutting it off. They needed to know who was on board before letting them drop anchor.

As soon as they were alongside the younger men tossed hooks over the side and quickly pulled themselves up, he'd reached for the rope, but Grey Worm stopped him. "You cannot be risked."

Grudgingly he waited until other men took the deck, they met no resistance and Jorah climbed up to find out what was going on. A small group of men stood on the deck, some leaning heavily on others; clearly injured they didn't intend to fight.

"Why have you come?" Grey Worm already demanded, Jorah ignored the fact that the man had positioned himself and another soldier between him and them; a formation he had taken often with the Unsullied Commander to protect Daenerys.

"I am Haloque Desorell, First Sword of Bravos, serving the free city. We have come to seek the aide of the Dragon." The man spoke the common tongue with a thick accent, held upright by another it seemed the short introduction took much of his strength; he'd taken a wound to the gut.

The man was spending his fading strength to plead for help and as Jorah took in the ship he doubted if this was a merchant vessel; it was outfitted as a war ship. Though it had clearly lost a battle somewhere, the mark on his chest still twitched, but as he strode forward and lay a hand on the man's arm it did not change.

"Please, ships will never reach in time. If the Dragon does not help us all that our city has been built upon will be lost; free men taken by…" The man trailed off, pain evident in his face and Jorah motioned Grey Worm forward.

"Come." He murmured, and they helped the men from the ship, loading them into the small boats and taking them inland.

Jorah heard a screech above him and looked up to find Jahara circling, the young dragon stayed above his boat as they journeyed in land to the temple platform; their guests stared at her in shock. But a far more intimidating sight awaited them, it had their guests shifting uneasily.

Two fully grown dragons rested on stone stands, flanking their mother who stood behind the pool, Jahara glided over and lit upon the stone rim; sitting opposite Rhaellys. Unsullied lined the steps, and from other islands their people watched, his was the first boat to land, their guests, clearly having not seen dragons before wavered as they were helped up the steps. Jorah crossed, pausing at his wife's shoulder to tell her what they had found.

"Has it stopped?" Laying her hand over the aching mark; he only shook his head.

"It will not stop, not as long as blood magic dances; dark powers rise within the world. Those who call upon it do not know what they wake." They both turned at the rhythmic voice behind them; from the back of the platform Kinvara watched. "The time has come for the dragon to rise; for true magic to triumph."

Jorah stared at her for a long moment and then turned back to the men watching them uneasily. "What banners did they fly?"

"The Kraken flies on their sails, but they bring men by the thousands. Men fight upon the frozen canals; the ice slows our ships." The man reported weakly and he looked to Daenerys as they listened. "The Sealord throws his fleets against theirs; yet they are not thrown back."

"Cersei Lannister." She whispered.

"Bravos is one of the Northmost cities in Essos, sea ice is dangerous; but if you do not care for the men you lose the city is most vulnerable in winter." A city of islands was always vulnerable, it was something they were addressing here in Valyria.

"The Sealord of Bravos would have me fight his war?" Daenerys asked, her eyes roaming over the men assembled, Jorah tried to read her gaze; they both knew there had to be a reason the Bravosi sought her help.

He wanted a moment to speak privately with her, Bravos was easily the wealthiest city in Essos and their Navy could rival any in the world. While he could see the appeal of the city it was not a practical place to take; especially in winter. But no matter the reason, it was better for all the East, the world in fact, that Euron Greyjoy and Cersei Lannister did not control the wealth of Bravos.

"We are a nation built upon the same edicts you have carried with you since you began in Slavers Bay. Our city was founded by our ancestors, by men who escaped the Valyrian Freehold, and yet today we come back, we beg your aide for we believe." The man's voice wavered, and Jorah winced; he knew this could not be an easy thing to do.

"Even at best speed my ships are not fast enough to turn the tide for your people, especially given you were sent to me weeks ago. Your war may already be lost." She spoke slowly and he could see the hesitation in her eyes. "But someone did not want you to reach me at all."

…

Daenerys was torn, looking at the men before her, some still watching the dragons with open fear; they needed help. And they offered her a tangible opportunity to right a wrong of her ancestors, she could do nothing for the generations enslaved; but for their children's offspring Bravos was free. It should remain so.

But she carried a child, Jorah's child grew within her and these men did not come to ask for her army; they would not reach Bravos in time. Her dragons could, and they could turn the tide in any war, but she would take her unborn child into battle; and she was not sure she could do that.

Suddenly the man before her collapsed, and as she gasped Jorah stepped past her; already drawing the short dagger from his belt. There were uneasy murmurs from the others, but Jorah opened his palm, ripping open the man's tattered tunic and laying the hand flat against the gut wound.

"Help me." Jorah glanced to the soldiers that watched, an edge in his voice; one of the Unsullied strode forward; between them they heaved the man up.

She knew what he was going to do, and she drew close, laying a hand on his back; uneasy with his choice. By his reaction alone she knew his opinion, and she knew the cost of healing a man; if they were to go into battle, she needed him.

Jorah did not lift the man into the water but leaning him against the rim of the pool he dipped his own hand into the water. The wound closed immediately, but Daenerys frowned, Jorah did not sag; she felt the heat pulsing through his shoulder. And looking up she stared into her sons' eyes, they watched with raptly; like her husband they were willing to fight.

"Get your full armour." She told him quietly, if he was able to stand and cross to their home then they would go. And he did, giving her a slight nod as he left, she turned to instruct Grey Worm; ignoring the shocked murmurs behind them. "Feed our guests and find them somewhere to rest. And set guards on the coast while we are away."

…

His chest ached, a warning of what would come, but his strength did not fail him and in fine steel he mounted Drogon; tucking his wife's frame close to his. The dragon beneath them launched into the air and three followed, with two young dragons stretching their wings to less than half the span of even one of Drogon's; her sons let them glide in strong air currents beneath their wings.

It was a long flight, but as they drew closer, he shifted uneasily; the sword on his hip became warm. And the sky hazy, they were burning wet wood to make it difficult for the ships to find their way through the channels. Drogon banked towards the sea and as they passed a wall of smoke, they found the heart of the battle.

Men were trying to battle their way off the decks of ships as others tried to slow their enemies, many even at anchor were used as platforms for archers and catapults. On land they were losing the battle, in ragged armour, with collars fastened about their neck's men pressed forward; in the streets on the piers and bridges men fought for their home. They were late, the battle had already broken their defenses; unless they could force back those ships it was lost.

Suddenly Jorah groaned, something struck him hard, at first, he thought it was an arrow; archers already identified the dragons as a threat. But then Jahara circled back and soared over them again, her claws grazed his shoulder plate and she screeched as she passed him again. He stared at her for a moment, she was circling back as Drogon tipped down into a dive; having been given the order to attack.

This time Jahara dove low, coming from the opposite direction and he let go of his wife; she was going to knock him from Drogon's back. For a moment fear curled in his gut, expecting to tumble into a free fall; but he didn't. Jahara had her claws curved beneath his armpit and hooked in the fastenings of his plates.

He dangled from her claws, but she was not crushing his shoulder, she held him, bringing him low over the battle; Jorah kicked out with his foot at a man barking orders to the slaves. Those orders ceased, but another picked up and the Bravosi struggled to hold their ground; though many men were trying to stare up at him.

Before Jahara set him on the ground his sword was drawn, the hilt was warm in his hand, but as he began to fight, he had to dodge arcs of flame; the young dragon stayed above him. Joining the front line, the men rallied as they realized which side he fought for; which side the dragons fought for.

Jahara rained fire down ahead of him, Drogon and Rhaegal were wreaking havoc upon the incoming force, their flames engulfing ships and men as Rhaellys flitted lower; chasing the enemy through the streets. As his sword arced forward a branch fire fell and a jolt raced down his arm when the two met, the heat of the sword intensified and for a moment he froze. The flame engulfed his blade, but it did not flash off.

Instead the flames raced up and down the blade as he fought, the hilt warm in his hand as he fought, and dragons soared overhead. The forces thinned, and as he slashed down, he did not strike leather or steel; instead the fabric caved, wrapping around his blade. Thrown off balance Jorah felt a side blow glance off his armour, but he had to withdraw his sword and pull the fabric from it; the flames extinguished now.

Around him the Bravosi cheered, from the sky Daenerys had gained control and was forcing the invading fleet back; men flowed off the ships that remained like rats as the flaming ships sank into the water. The ground force could not evacuate, but their grit had faded with their charge and now many tried to see where their safety net was going. They retook the bridge; others were taking the streets; the commanders that were left had stopped calling out orders.

And then the face in front of him sent a chill down his spine, eerie blue lips, a feature he had seen before and as he thrust out with his sword the man vanished from within the clothing; fabric tangling about his sword once more. Something more made sense now, he knew where they had gone after King's Landing fell and Bravos had not been their first port of call; nor had they entered this war alone.


	31. Chapter 31

The battle was fierce, she had leaned into Drogon's back, her grown sons gave chase as the ships fled; the Greyjoys lost several more ships. But as she landed in the city, directed within the walls of a fine estate, Jorah waited on the ground with several men. It was the grim expression on her husband's face that worried her a little.

The men with Jorah hung back as Rhaegal and Drogon landed, Jahara had perched on the parapet of a building to watch everything happening below. She was not sure where Rhaellys was, but she didn't have time to dwell on it. The men eagerly introduced themselves, though the Sealord of Bravos and some of his captains eyed her dragons uneasily. Her husband took a spot a pace behind her shoulder, but she knew there was something he wanted to say.

Yet they did not have the privacy and were quickly taken into the house and offered refreshment as the Sealord of Bravos watched them; clearly waiting for his moment. Daenerys declined, the fighting had been fierce today, but the city showed signs of prolonged siege. The city had been in trouble long enough to send a ship south for their aide and as the Sealord began to explain that ship had been one o in a flotilla that had left early in the siege.

The man then led them through to a map, explaining how the first attacks had caught them by surprise; the Lannisters had forced an army through the treacherous marshes. The city was built to be defended by sea, and the attack by sea had come in the days that followed; squeezing Bravos from both sides.

"No matter how many times we throw them back, the rise up again. They bring an army of slaves against us, against a city built upon the tenants of freedom. But they fight..." The Sealord broke off as if searching for a word and she sensed Jorah shifting behind her. "Our city is being destroyed, our people die, our resources dwindle."

"We will help you." If what he said was true then the war was not over, and the Lannisters needed to be thrown back; the slaves they took freed. "When they come against your city again my children shall be waiting."

"Your grace." The man bowed deeply, and it felt as though the whole of the room relaxed.

Jorah remained silent for the whole of the exchange, but when they were shown to a chamber to rest and clean up, he closed the door and looked at her; blue eyes dangerously cool. "Khaleesi their battle is not so simple. The Lannisters have aligned themselves with the Warlocks of Qarth."

"You are sure of this?" A chill ran down her spine.

"They fight with more than slaves, twice I struck a man in battle and found nothing but an apparition; one capable of wielding spear and sword." Jorah told her quietly as he began to remove his armor, there were small indentations in the shoulder plate, and she realized they were from Jahara's claws; the young dragon could not yet be ridden but she had fought fiercely.

"Why Bravos?" She questioned, certainly if they had captured Qarth, the city likely ruled by the Warlocks since the assassinations of the leaders; and her punishment of the self-proclaimed king.

"The obvious answer is the city's wealth, beyond that there are a myriad of other possibilities." Jorah sighed, and as she crossed to the large adjacent bath chamber, a sunken tub filled with steaming water he followed; lightly running his hands over her shoulders.

Two servants knocked lightly before entering and Daenerys waved them away; she wanted to continue their conversation privately. "My husband will attend to me."

She was about to question him further when a screech had them both turning, when Jorah opened the shutters their young silver dragon lighted upon the ledge and made herself comfortable. She answered her husband's look with a shrug, she didn't want to spend the evening listening to an angry dragon screeching; or apologize if Jahara found another way to remove the obstacles in her path.

The silver dragon had a special bond with her husband, it was different from the one she had with Drogon as her son had a tendency to be independent, and at times had been rebellious with her; so far Jahara showed none of those traits. But while the other dragons were interested in Jorah, it was Jahara who seemed bonded to him; as though she knew exactly what he could do and how to make him do it. She could be rough, and demanding, yet Daenerys noticed she was never far from him; the only one of her children who refused to sleep in the smoke of the flames having chosen a ruined house directly behind theirs for herself.

And now she perched contentedly on the window ledge, chattering until Jorah came to stroke her head and shoulder. Daenerys readied herself to watch and tossed ideas back and forth with him, the attack by sea was led by the Greyjoys; but the fight by land was another matter.

The Greyjoy's strength was on the water, invading the ports and offloading men, or apparitions onto the pier was what they knew; but it did make her wonder if they had found other allies. "Would Euron Greyjoy know how to direct the marsh invasion?"

"Not likely." As she dried off in the warm sheet laid out Jorah stripped off and stepped into the tub; he did not soak but began to scrub off the grime from the battle. "The Greyjoys live on the sea, they prefer to fight on the water, they have a second commander; but this is their strong front. I'd like to know who fled King's Landing with them."

"Do you think Tyrion and his brother turned back to their house?" She questioned sharply, seeing Jorah glance down; his own answer.

Had the man ridden south with the Northern forces, or against them? Perhaps it had been a mistake to let Jamie Lannister live, she should not have listened to the Starks who asked for him to be pardoned; he had abandoned his oath years ago and then turned upon his own kin.

She winced as Jorah dried himself, more than a few bruises blooming where armour had dulled a weapon's blow, but each strike left its mark. If what the Bravosi said was true they would face another battle in the morning; and she was not sure how to defeat the warlocks.

…

That evening he explored their guest's home and roamed out to help feed the dragons; the Bravosi feared them. Jahara had been doing her best to shadow him, but he only saw two other dragons in the yard; only three settled to eat. It was possible that Rhaellys had chosen to explore and eat elsewhere, but it did worry him a little.

Jorah roamed the grounds and was shifted a hand to his sword as he realized he had a shadow; Jahara alerted him a moment later. The man approached him, looking a little uneasy until he shifted his hand from the hilt of his sword.

"Forgive me, I am Tycho Nestoris of the Iron Bank. I suspect you know why I have come." The man spoke smoothly, eyes flitting up to the silver dragon behind him. "Bravos lies in debt to your Queen, more so as the Lannister's motivations are not so difficult to understand."

"Do you believe it is so simple?" Jorah asked, the Lannisters owed a large debt to the Iron Bank, and he knew the wealth of Bravos would appeal. However, he wondered if there wasn't something more.

"There are many who owe the Iron Bank, in the West and far in the East. And we have our own ways of recouping our losses, however when such magic opposes us it becomes difficult." The man referenced the assassins Bravos was famous for, to some a weapon, and others a mercy; the Bravosi believed there was only one god with many faces. "However, an arrangement between the Dragon Queen and Bravos could be valuable."

"The Dragon Queen needs no loans, if she seeks an arrangement with your city it will be an alliance." The man might favor such an arrangement but with dragons and the wealth of Valyria he would do all he could to convince her to avoid such an offer; though he was not surprised they were coming.

"Of course." The man nodded.

And then slid away, perhaps that man had hoped to have more influence; he knew in the city's politics members of the Iron Bank enjoyed a certain amount of influence. Jorah continued to explore and frowned as he climbed the wall to survey what was left of the city's defenses.

With the grown dragons Daenerys could likely prevent much of the fight on shore; burning the ships in the harbour to prevent others coming in. But on shore the fighting would be fierce, stone littered the streets and many buildings were unstable; right now, the streets were all but deserted.

It was Jahara that drew his attention to someone skulking through the streets, he would hardly have noticed the movement if not for her; he was learning to understand her more and more. And as he watched he recognized the small shadow moved with purpose and practice; few would ever notice.

He picked his way down to the street level and used Jahara to stay on course, the sun was setting and as the light faded, he was able to catch up to who he followed. Jorah frowned as he realized he followed a young girl; a stealthy one.

She'd seen Jahara and trying to track the dragon slowed her down; he circled around a cross street to head her off. The youngest Stark girl had her sword drawn before he turned to corner and for a moment, they stared at each other; Jahara screeched loudly to distract her but he did not draw a weapon.

"Why are you here my lady?" Seeing her bristle slightly and after a long moment she sheathed her own sword.

Arya Stark stared at him. "I've come to kill Cersei Lannister."

"She isn't in Bravos."

"She isn't on the Ironborn ships." The girl countered though a frown crossed her face.

"You were on the Greyjoy's ships?" He demanded, wanting to ask what she had seen; though, if it was true the information, she had already given was valuable.

The girl was silent but that meant she suspected Cersei Lannister was either in the city or on the Eastern front; in the marshes. However, he struggled to think of a reason the woman would take such a risk, even in winter the marshes were dangerous.

…

It was late when Jorah came to bed and settled in behind her, slipping an arm around to mold her frame into his. Daenerys eased back into his solid chest, wishing he knew that his child grew beneath his hand. He held her close out of habit, making her feel secure even in an unfamiliar place; as he always had.

In the morning they rose, and as they walked down to the yard, he told her of finding Arya Stark in the city; Daenerys took no issue with the girl's cause. But she disagreed with both of them, Cersei Lannister was not the type to live in a war camp; if she was not in the comfort of Euron's ship she suspected the woman had remained in Qarth.

"Where is Rhaellys?" She asked, a little concerned when the sapphire dragon was not in the yard with her siblings.

"I don't know." Jorah muttered, his palm resting on her back as the Bravosi watched them approach the dragons.

They mounted Drogon, having learned that Jahara could take him from the grown dragon's back if she wanted to. She had hoped Rhaellys would surface from somewhere to soar with the others, but the blue dragon did not appear as they headed out over the harbor.

The port was quiet and they made wide passes as they headed out farther, circling the huge gladiator that had sustained heavy damage in the fighting; looking for their enemy's ships. As they continued out to see they found the fleet at anchor off the coast.

"What are they doing?" Daenerys questioned as they circled above the ships.

The decks were quiet and the men who were at their posts hurried for the scorpions; their shouts did not bring more manpower. Yet Jahara screeched in her ear and she felt Jorah's grip tighten on her; she glanced back to see her husband grimacing in pain. She had her answer, remembering the day in the shadow beyond Asshai she wished she could soothe his pain; the Warlocks must be on board.


	32. Chapter 32

He'd felt this kind of crippling pain before, he recognized it immediately, though it came with little warning; and felt as though it were crushing his body. Jahara screeched angrily he felt the dragon he rode dipping; all he thought about was holding onto Daenerys, if he let go of her, he would certainly slide from Drogon's back.

Jorah had been aware of the dragon's mark since the morning they left Valyria, but even in battle when he faced the Warlock's apparitions, he had not felt this pain. And it clicked for him, he knew why they had not attacked again at dawn; and he battled the pain.

Like Nahyan, the Warlocks relied upon spells and blood for their magic, long ago they had recognized the power of the dragons; attempting to gain control of Drogon, Rhaegal and Viserion as hatchlings. But Daenerys magic had overpowered the Warlocks long before either of them understood it, she would prevail again today; but he had a part in this fight.

He fought to open his eyes and watched as flames engulfed several ships, Jahara's screeches became more desperate; though they did not stop her from spitting flame upon the ships below. Suddenly Rhaegal broke formation, descending to target a single ship at the heart of the fleet.

The huge dragon spit flame on the ship he chose and suddenly pain contracted in his chest; Daenerys reached back, and he felt her hand clutching his armor. But his wife was unable to stop him from tumbling backwards even as relief pulsed through his veins a second later; regaining himself to scramble for a grip of Drogon's scales. He was near the dragon's hip as he finally caught hold of the rough spikes and began to pull himself up.

A little surprised that Jahara was not in the way, as he secured himself low on the dragon's back, until he saw two young dragons emerge from flaming ship; a heavy chain dangled from the sapphire's neck. Jorah caught his wife's eye for a second before claws closed around his shoulder, men had appeared from nowhere on the decks of other ships; he suspected they had always been there, shielded by the Warlock's magic until now.

"The Warlocks are gone!" He shouted, hoping she would hear him as Jahara dove; he dangled from her claws.

He knew they had departed as the dragon's magic overpowered theirs; it was the only reason he could think of that the mark had settled. Jorah landed on the deck of a ship, the men nearest him already burning with the deck as the dragon shadowed him. His sword cut through others, relieved to strike flesh; knowing he fought in men.

A blow from behind sent him reeling and he swung around to find Euron Greyjoy grinning at him like a madman. They had met once before, quite literally a lifetime ago in his homeland; Bear Island had been a target that the Ironborn favored.

Slashing out with his sword he drove the man back and aware the strength of his armor held out his arm to block a blow; watching horror cross his opponent's face. Valyrian steel was impenetrable to lesser metal, he'd certainly felt the blow; but it did no damage and his sword found the man's gut.

The force pushed the Greyjoy through a burning hole in the deck and Jahara descended; he watched flame engulf the man. And this time he was prepared for the claws that closed around his shoulder plate, Jorah reached up to hold onto her leg; giving himself a little more control in flight.

All around them ships burned, men bailed into the sea to escape but he doubted many would make it to shore again; and those that did would be met by the Bravosi forces. He could see ships approaching as the dragons gave chase to any damaged galleys that got under way.

"Jorah." His wife called out to him as Jahara flew higher, it was awkward, but the young dragon was not concerned; this was her choice.

Perhaps as she grew, she would let him ride, but if not, they might find another way; she could easily drop him on a battlefield and take flight again. Her claws held his shoulder plate firmly as the dragon soared with her siblings, but she did not hurt him or crush the joint; holding her leg he was able to keep some control.

The dragons landed briefly, and he mounted behind his wife before they soared East into the marshes. The swampy ground was partially frozen, making it so that the enemy could march over terrain that was usually deadly; dragons' fire fixed that. The young dragons dipped low to harass the troops as Drogon and Rhaegal soared high, using long powerful breaths of flame to create a barrier between the Bravosi and their enemy; sending both sides running.

The front lines had not known they were coming and did not seem sure of who they fought for; either way the battle slowed. The army may have been prepared for war; but they were not prepared for dragons and Daenerys did not hesitate to destroy their camp. With the dragons it did not take long to end the battle and Daenerys glanced back at him as fire burned below and survivors crept through the marshes looking fearfully to the sky.

…

Bravos was not safe, or stable, rocked by war and motives they did not know Daenerys wanted to return to the safety of Valyria soon, for herself and their child. And he was fading fast and Daenerys worried that with his magic spent he was vulnerable; and she did not fully understand the powers at play in this city. Yet it would be a long journey home and she was not sure Jorah was strong enough to go so far; he needed to rest.

Still there was the matter of their presence to be sorted, but she frowned as Jorah grabbed her shoulder, a little rougher than he usual; pointing into the streets. And she stared as she recognized the girl, she'd last seen her in the North and yet it was quite clear she was brokering a deal of her own.

"She's looking for Cersei Lannister." Jorah called over her shoulder as they circled. "She blames her for what happened to her house; to her parents."

"Then she went south with Jon." Daenerys murmured to herself, Arya Stark was a fierce fighter; but her family held power once more. Yet the girl was young, and she knew how powerful a motivation revenge could be. But what ties did the girl have to this city? "I want to speak to her."

Arya Stark might not like her, but perhaps she would have some faith with them, Jorah was a Northerner who had given his life fighting for the girl's home and she had stepped aside; allowing Jon to take the throne. A warrior in her own right, battle tested in the war against the dead she had no doubt the girl would have been at Jon's side; she would know who fled with Cersei and what backing they had.

Daenerys set down in the street, and ever helpful Jahara guided them; but by the time they reached the girl her companion had vanished. She wondered why Arya had remained in the city now that they knew Cersei was not here. Something told her the girl could have vanished as easily as her friend, but Arya waited for them; watching the dragon that had perched on a step nearby.

"Your grace." Arya greeted them as they rounded the corner; the girl seemed relaxed.

"Lady Arya, the war is over, but would ask you for a word." The girl flinched a little, dressed in armour and thick cloak that fastened over one shoulder; there was no reason she couldn't be a warrior and a lady. "Did you go to King's Landing?"

The girl nodded but didn't offer the insight Daenerys wanted and she tried to prompt her to talk; she might be the most honest report they could get on this side of the world. It took a few moments, but they got her talking, though she remained guarded as she told them about the journey South with her brother.

While the Unsullied had been with the Northern army, Grey Worm had only been party to the military maneuvers and strategy; he had not been on Jon's counsel or involved in his politics. Her Commander had reported that Varys had remained with Jon, accepting him as King but he had known little of the Lannisters; Tyrion had remained in the Capital for a time and then returned to Casterly Rock as the head of his house.

That troubled her, the only Lannister left in Westeros, who had spent much of his life in the Capital had left to a holding on the coast while his siblings wreaked terror in the East; and Arya did not give up that detail easily. Daenerys suspected she had an agenda in following the Lannisters East, perhaps more than revenge. And though her life was very much planted in Valyria now, she cared what happened in Westeros; the place where her kin ruled once more.

Jorah listened but had urged them to have the conversation as they moved; silently guiding them to move through the streets towards the Sea Lord's estate. He didn't like to be vulnerable and Daenerys cooperated, knowing in an unstable city there were many risks, and that he wanted to rest; she knew his face. He needed it.

"And why are you still here? Cersei Lannister is not." Daenerys questioned as they could see the walls that surrounded the Sealord's palace in the damaged streets.

Arya shifted uneasily and it was Jorah who answered. "The harbour of a port city is vital. When did your ship sink?"

"Early in the siege." The girl told them, and then admitted quietly. "If they did not come to deal with the Iron Bank, their due would sail to them."

Daenerys nodded; such rumors of the ancient bank had circulated a very long time; but even so Arya Stark seemed comfortable here. Her dragons rested in the yard and the young girl watched as they approached Rhaellys who happily spat the bones of a fish she must have caught. Jorah drew his sword and as she lay herself along the dragon's back, trying to contain her as he used his weapon to pry the collar from her neck.

There were better tools to use, but she knew he was more comfortable controlling his sword, the Valyrian steel would hold; and it was a rather delicate operation. Rhaellys screeched nervously but did not fight her as Jorah used his body weight to snap the clamp; a slip could seriously hurt the young dragon. But as soon as the chain fell away the sapphire dragon shook her head, Daenerys quickly let her go.

As her child hopped about, she sighed, this journey could have had a very different ending and at that thought the child within her stirred. They both sensed the risks, to the dragons and to Jorah; Daenerys knew it was time to go home. Her child was going to know its parents and have a home.

…

"I need to speak with the Sealord." Daenerys murmured, they stood within the gates; watching the men returning from the battle at sea. He nodded and felt her eyes rake over him. "You think we should offer Arya support."

"I do." He murmured, Arya's intentions worked in their favor; should she succeed and return West their support would strengthen the bond between the two Targaryens.

And he knew she wanted to return home sooner than later, Jorah felt his body fading but he knew he had to fight hard. She wasn't safe here, but he didn't want her to worry more than she already did; she didn't have to say how much what happened to Rhaellys upset her. She didn't need to be worrying about him too.

Jorah shadowed her as she tried to strike a deal with the shocked Bravosi leader; he watched the members of the Iron Bank hovering nearby. The deal was not an easy one to make, but Daenerys wisely struck a trade agreement along with an alliance in the free city; though some of the men seemed nervous at the idea of sailing into the smoking sea and argued with the Sealord.

"There are several small out crops near Valyria, and near the outskirts of the mists. Perhaps we could build a port there." Daenerys glanced at him and Jorah nodded, it was yet another project they needed to work on; a consequence of a growing nation.

But the trade would see supplies, spices and other goods coming to their shores and slowly word of where they were; and the strength of the dragons. Men would know the curse had been broken by Daenerys Targaryen, the new Dragon Queen; and the stories of her rise to power. Jorah knew that work was going to continue for years and the plans would continue to expand. But before the sun began to set, they flew South, and Arya Stark rode behind him.

It was a long trip, and Jahara flitted up over Drogon's wing to screech at him; she sensed his internal fight. It was dark as they entered the smoke surrounding their home, he felt the change more than he saw it until they circled over the city and dots of light cast an eerie glow from windows and in the early morning he saw a few torches as people prepared for their day; dulled by the smoke.

Someone must have spotted the dragons as Missandei and Grey Worm were waiting on the roof of their house when Drogon landed; explanations were brief, and his wife sent Arya Stark with their friends. He would speak to Daenerys about arranging a ship for her, and perhaps of their own interests in the East; but for now he was just trying to keep himself upright.

A soft chatter came before the beat of leather wings, Jahara landed next to him; tipping her head for him to stroke her neck. When he followed his wife down to their room the chatter followed and the shutters on the window trembled before giving way. The dragon could not fit properly on the sill, but she found purchase on the outer structure, tucking her wings in as she watched them, settling down to rest.

He quickly removed his armor and hung his sword before he turned back to see his wife slipping off her cloak. Jorah crossed to loosen the laces on her dress, the thin fabric offered her little protection, he'd been glad to ride behind her; pressing her body between his armor and Drogon's scales.

"You need to get a set of armor made to fit you." He murmured, trying not to fumble the delicate lacing of the dress.

"And you need to sleep." She laughed as he slipped the loosened sides over her shoulders, her soft skin as he helped her from it. "I will, eventually, but this is not the right time."

Jorah frowned, the right time had passed, especially now that Jahara could lift him away as she felt the need. Daenerys stared at him a moment before reaching for the thin slip she would sleep in, but she didn't pull it on; he changed quickly.

"We may need to go East." He murmured, wishing he could have left this for later.

"I won't be going Jorah." She faced him squarely, the hard look in her eye worried him; he wasn't sure stepping back was an option now. But she drew closer and took his hands. "If we need to make our presence felt in the East you will go, Jahara will take you and I believe the others will fly with you. But I won't take our child into danger again."

It took a moment for him to register it, his mind jumped from considering whether or not the dragons would leave her behind to the word she only whispered. His eyes locked onto her, and then slid down as she drew his hands to her belly and the soft swell there.

"I will have armor made for me, but not until our child comes, in a few moons nothing will fit me properly." She murmured as his hands smoothed over her sides and back to the middle. "Have you not noticed?"

"I wasn't going to say anything." He felt his face redden and became awkward as soon as the words were out of his mouth; she laughed easily.

In truth he had thought it looked good on her, she was petite and her curves soft, perhaps she was a little fuller than she had been. But she was enjoying being part of a community again and having actual meals rather than what he could catch; she had never complained about the weeks of fish or small game that kept their hunger away, but it had showed on her.

"I think our child has been growing for three moons, perhaps more." She murmured, stepping closer as he slid one palm around to the center of her back.

He'd learned to let go of many things in his life, in the choices he made, but some had been easier than others. When his wife left, left him with nothing but his sword Jorah had finally let go of the hope to have a family of his own; and it had been a bitter pill to swallow. But a hired sword, living as a man who fought not for honor or blood he had lost the desire to father a child who would have nothing if he misjudged an opponent; not when he should have been able to give his babe name, land and title.

But things were different now, this babe might never see the cold shores of Bear Island or call Westeros home; but it would be safe and loved. It would see a nation rise, grow up in a stronghold defended by the fiercest of creatures and likely breathe its mother's fire, Jorah swallowed hard; they would be a family.

"I am glad, know that." He whispered; his silence was not his opinion of the news; only the surprise of it. "We will be a family."

"I will rebuild this world for our child, the wheel will break, and I will crush those who seek to roll over others for their own gain with the dragon's magic. Valyria will be her inheritance, and dragons her strength, but it will come with the blood of every slave who died in chains and ever soldier who fights the injustice. Someday we will not speak of Old Valyria, we will speak of the old way; our children will know only ours." Fire entered her voice and he leaned close; pressing a kiss to the top of her head.

He fell asleep considering her words, it was no longer just a dream or goal, Jorah sensed that her vision was tangible; and yet far more went into it. Perhaps it was the purpose for all of this, the prophecy of her birth, the dragons she loved and the life that coursed through him. He'd struggled with the visions he'd seen in the pool for some time; but today he wondered if it was not their magic revealing the answer they struggled with.

The world was not changed in a day, men did not easily change their ways; it took more than a lifetime. And yet the stories of dragons living for centuries, the books they had found and the visions he had seen, histories spanning hundreds of years; Jorah wondered if there might be more to the bond between heart and guardian.


	33. Chapter 33

Daenerys slept with his arms wrapped around her, his palm above his child and the dragon's mark pulsing against her shoulder. He was drained and hurting, from the fight as well as the magic and it was a rare occasion that she rose before him. But she had a purpose, and questions she didn't want him to suffer the answer of if she was wrong.

She left him sleeping soundly, Jahara watching over him as she went to find Kinvara; she was tired of riddles and half truths. Of trying to figure out what they were and what their magic was, in the port of Bravos she had feared for their unborn child, but it was her husband who nearly tumbled from Drogon's back as though crippled by his own magic.

And when he had undressed last night, she'd seen the distinctive stain on his shirt, which she took from his hook on her way out. He'd been enthralled by the news that he was to be a father, but she'd struggled not to let her own concerns show; in the battle the dragon's mark itself had bled. Passing the shirt to her friend she answered the silent question she asked.

"Do not disturb his rest. I will be back later; he doesn't need to know where I've gone. The war in Bravos sapped his strength." She spoke firmly, knowing if he was to wake Missandei would have her hands full; he would be less than pleased with her choice.

She went to find Kinvara and was not surprised that she was at the temple platform; but the woman almost seemed to be waiting for her. And as she climbed the steps piercing green eyes swung over her. "Your name is whispered across the world now, the first war to be won by the dragon's magic in millennia. And your new Kingdom has grown stronger for it."

"My ancestors took Westeros with dragons..." Daenerys countered irritably.

"With the beasts yes, but not with the full power of their magic, your house never dreamt the measure of their power. You feel it, it lives within you, the bones of the ancient dragons cry to you; to your children. Every time it stirs within your guardian you feel the power." Kinvara sat beside her on the edge of the guardian's pool, absently Daenerys had dipped her fingers into the water.

"When did you first see the guardian with the dragons' heart?" The woman wasn't speaking a prophecy, not of the threat of blood magic or the power of the dragons; it was in her face. Kinvara was remembering, old memories that had inspired her to leave the temple and world she knew, where she was respected for the budding kingdom in a sea of smoke.

"I was only a girl." The woman whispered, her voice softening. "Remember these years Daenerys Targaryen, for a life touched by magic is long in more than years. Cherish each season you see, and the people who pass through your life in each, for little more than a day of your life is a lifetime to them."

"And Jorah?" A finger of ice crept up her spine.

"In him you have a great gift." The woman smiled sadly. "There are many days I long for someone who remembers those I have loved, those lost. He is a guardian; his life is bound to yours; and your power bound to him. None will stand against the dragons; their power restored in you and your children."

Kinvara left her at the pool, feeling comforted and challenged by her words; she frowned as the waters flickered and shimmered. As though trying to respond, perhaps sensing her connection to the dragons or to Jorah; either way it made her feel at home.

She watched the mixture of small crafts on the waterway, people moving between their home and the markets, and men navigated barges out to the wall where work slowly continued. Daenerys had yet to put the promised harbor to the work crews, but it would be good to have a strong hold and proper deep-water port near their shores; and with the dragons it could be done. Kinvara was right, they were constantly learning more about them; and she wondered at Jahara's bond to her husband.

The young dragon had been woken from stone be fire, but it was his blood which cracked her shell;

When she made her way home, she found Jorah sitting on the rooftop, Jahara and Rhaellys were perched on the low stone wall, spitting melted bones from the sheep her husband must have fed them. He still looked worn and when she sat next to him, sliding her palm into his shirt; she felt the pulse of the dragon's mark.

"You need to rest." She was not sure how his magic had drained him, but she did not want to think of what might have happened to Rhaellys had he not been there.

"I'm fine." He murmured, ignoring her concern as his palm slid over her belly. "Have you eaten today?"

She sighed, he easily turned the conversation back to her and she nodded; curling into his side. He was so attentive, and as they watched the young dragons eat, she wondered if their babe would not mount the sapphire blue dragon that currently gnawed at a ram's horn. Rhaellys would be grown by the time their child would ride, if the fearless young dragon would take a rider.

…

Jorah eyed the young woman who sat at the table with them, they were making plans for Arya Stark's journey into the East. The girl was determined to find Cersei Lannister, and their best assumption was that she was hiding in Qarth; deep in the East. And in a wealthy city that was a concern, the woman knew how to play the political game and had ties around the world.

"I do not need soldiers to come with me, she will not meet me in battle." Arya argued against Daenerys' suggestion of sending a unit of Unsullied with her.

"The Unsullied represent my interest in this matter." And would return to Valyria to give them an accurate report of what happened; Jorah thought it was a good plan that did not involve him leaving Daenerys alone to lead the expedition himself.

He did not care that she was safe here, or that Drogon was a far more effective defense than he could be; she carried their child. Jorah did not intend to miss this, if he needed to go East, he would fly and be gone a few days; not spending the rest of her pregnancy at sea. And when her time came, he would be with her to greet their babe.

"You cannot sail alone; the Unsullied will crew the ship." He countered, knowing they would be watching that journey carefully to see if the dragons should take flight.

The girl looked annoyed but must sense that she would not get her way on this, and the discussion died. Daenerys turned to Grey Worm and began to finalize the details; which unit would be going and when they could sail. Soon after the table turned to the various construction projects and the rest of the Unsullied. They had only a few thousand men, trained and skilled soldiers who were committed to serving Daenerys; at first, they had needed some time to settle in and get used to the climate.

But now Grey Worm said many were wondering about forming a work crew, the Commander suggested having the men train in the morning while they were fresh and work on construction projects in the afternoon. The men were excellent soldiers but over the course of the various campaigns had learned many skills, adding a few skilled laborers to the crews he had no doubt that the men could learn the skills.

He was planning to rejoin the construction efforts; work would be completed at a much faster pace with them; however, he was hesitant to see Daenerys taking flight. Jahara couldn't lift what Drogon could, but the smaller dragon would listen to him; and could hoist many small loads. He wanted to see what progress had been made in the past few days and try to gauge a timeline on finishing the wall from the Eastern ridge of the Flames to the mouth of the river; where he hoped they would someday build a defensive fort.

Yet when they were alone that evening the work that was ahead of them faded into the background. Daenerys settled against his chest, pulling his arm around her; Jorah eagerly lay his hand on her belly. Unable to stop himself from wondering if she could feel the babe moving yet, if they were to have a boy or girl and what it would be like to hold his own babe in his arms. To watch the child, suckle at his mother's breast or snuggle safe into her arms; Daenerys would be as fierce a mother to their child as she was to the dragons.


	34. Chapter 34

In the moons that followed a great deal changed in Valyria, grounded as her belly swelled with the child Daenerys was forced to watch from below as the wall around their island nation was raised with dragon strength; with each day that she worked Jahara seemed to grow stronger, able to lift more.

And proving herself a dragon made for her rider, the bond between the silver dragon and Jorah was incredible, she could do days of work in a morning and their crews learned to work cautiously around her; watching Jorah for directions. Both Jahara and Rhaellys had grown so much faster than her sons and Daenerys couldn't explain it; beyond the magic that had been awoken between her and Jorah. Daenerys enjoyed watching them work, as she enjoyed the dragons' distinct personalities, Drogon fierce and independent, Rhaegal had a mild and sweet temperament while Rhaellys was adventurous and often disappeared into the flames while Jahara was bravely loyal to Jorah. She'd heard the Red Priestess whisper of the guardians and the silver dragons.

The ship bound for Qarth had sailed, with the Unsullied and Arya Stark on board and she had stood with Jorah as they watched the ship turned away from the Qarthi port. Undeterred Arya had asked to be put to shore farther up the coast and left the soldiers behind; somehow the girl found her way into the city.

They continued to watch, but Daenerys hesitated to send Jorah so far away, waiting to see what the girl would do on her own; Arya Stark did not seem to be the sort to let things go. And when the dragon in the pool revealed something else, a slave market still operating in the shadows of Volantis, Daenerys was forced to confront her own nature; unable to quiet the anger that burned within her.

Sensing how it affected her mood Jorah rubbed her back as he often did in the evenings. "This is not the time for a war, I will send a few men and upset the market."

"That will do nothing but force them deeper underground." She muttered unhappily, that the market existed meant a demand remained and she wanted to know who still believed it was acceptable to sell men; to barter with the lives of others. "I don't want the traders; I want the masters; I want the men buying lives like pieces of meat."

"We can do that." Jorah promised, his tone soothing; it made her want to scream. "Grey Worm can take a few men."

He was trying to placate her, and she was not in the mood, he might hold her close or kiss her gently but the more his child grew the more he wanted to coddle her. Her swollen belly fit none of her dresses and as the child grew it seemed to discover how to move within her; the babe enjoyed kicking her ribs at night.

But her temper could not budge her husband, he'd taken the brunt force of her wrath more than once, he did not shy from her, or show his irritation when calm answers were not what she wanted. She didn't want to watch what was happening hundreds of miles away from a pool of water; she wanted to stop it.

If there was no demand for slaves then there was no trade, but many of the Free Cities claimed to abhor the practice; and the Lannisters army was gone. The merchants reported the ports in Volantis were quiet, there were no longer men being herded on the docks.

Still one market was one to many, and something told her more than one remained. It took Jorah several days to find their first target, and even more to talk her out of sending him with the dragons to take care of it. Instead he argued a show of force from the Unsullied would teach the lesson; without demonstrating their full might.

"And if our strength is tested?" Daenerys had argued, knowing he didn't want to go. "The dragons will come if you need them."

"No, Daenerys. I need to be here." He came to attention in a second, almost hesitantly approaching her; his hands reaching for her shoulders.

"The babe will not come before you are home." She promised, she didn't want him to leave either, but if Lys was prepared to fight them the dragons might be needed. And while Drogon might not leave her, she was certain Jahara would follow him, and there was something special about the young silver dragon. And the young dragon was powerful in her own way, with their men she hoped it would be enough.

So, he sailed for Lys with Grey Worm and a company of men; the small island nation was not too far from Valyria. But as soon as he was gone Daenerys was struck by his absence, the house was too quiet and their bed empty; she missed his stable presence. And their child fussed within her, sensing her unhappiness, or perhaps the absence of the warm hand that liked to caress her belly, trying to track the jabs and kicks that could now be felt through her skin.

Missandei kept her company, helping to prepare for the babe's arrival, and expertly compiling a list of all the things they would need for the child. The exact date of arrival was impossible to determine, but as each moon passed Daenerys became certain the babe would come before it was out; her body could not stretch anymore.

And as much as she longed for the day, she could hold this child, she longed for her body back, to climb upon her dragon's back, or to move and bend easily again; to find a comfortable spot to sleep. Daenerys rose from a fitful night, unable to sleep yet again. Jorah had been gone over a week and Jahara with him; the young dragon unwilling to let him go alone. She felt much the same, wishing she had insisted that she go; without him here her dreams taunted her.

In the early dawn light Daenerys climbed to their roof, they had given up attempts to grow a garden up here; the dragons weren't exactly compatible with plants. But she liked having the dragons close, with sturdy stone perches on either side Rhaegal and Drogon already waited and Rhaellys was in the sky above; some poor bird had caught her attention.

She approached her dark son who dipped his huge head, a hot exhale washing over her as she began to stoke his face. He'd once been a size where she could stroke the whole of his head, now her palm was barely the size of a single scale, but he still leaned into her touch; eyes closing in pleasure. And after a few moments he nuzzled her belly and gave another sigh; her child kicked sharply as hot air wafted over her.

Daenerys wondered if he understood that a child grew within her and wondered how the dragons would react when the babe claimed her time and energy; Drogon especially. His wing was extended so that she could climb up to his back, though she had not ridden him since they returned from Bravos; he always offered.

And she did miss it, soaring through the sky, feeling him shifting beneath her; the barely controlled power of his wings driving forward and responding to her commands. She could still do it if she needed to, she suspected Drogon would take care of her. The dragons sensed her mood, Rhaellys returned from her hunt to perch on the wall, sensing that she liked them near.

"Khaleesi, you are up already?" She turned as Missandei climbed the steps, her friend had to be lonely as well with Grey Worm away. "Are you hungry?"

"I couldn't sleep." And with Jorah away she was afraid to dream, he was not there to soothe her or look into the pool and see the truth of what the dreams taunted her with. "I want him home; all of them."

"It is difficult waiting at home. But you know he wants you to be safe, he would want you to rest; for you and the child." Missandei murmured, and she felt a little guilty, her friend was missing her partner as well.

"Maybe I will try to lay down again." She agreed.

Though it became a plan she regretted, exhausted, her body had rested as her mind took hold. Swirling her into a world where all those dear to her were in chains, not only those who had once been but others. Jorah with a child clinging to his leg, Jon in Westeros and the cities of Dragon's Bay; except the chains were strange. Not all were made of iron, some curled in wisps, tendrils wrapping around her loved ones.

The world was covered in smoke and she looked up to the sky to see thick ice descending upon the tropical Eastern kingdoms before the ground beneath her feet began to rumble. She tossed and turned, attempting to escape the images only to be trapped once again; this time upon dragonback as smoke crept around the world, blackness and death following it as fire engulfed the seas; it was not snow that swept down upon the world but smoke. Voices whispered through the smoke, voices she had heard before; whispering spells and red dotted her vision as those in chains were slain.

Daenerys woke in a cold sweat to find her friend above her, pale faced; Missandei had been shaking her. She sat slowly, her child flailed inside her, kicking painfully and she longed for the smooth comfort of her husband's arms; to feel his strength wrapping around her as his magic pushed the dream away. This could not go on.

…

They had been in Lys for a week now, and it was not as simple as displacing the owners of the pleasure houses or the wealthy masters on their estates. It was like Mereen on a smaller scale, and yet perhaps even more dangerous because of the poisons the island was famous for. They had already lost a few men to the stealthy murder weapon, those who had been a little too trusting in the wrong moment and had died slow deaths. It meant each meal or drink was a gamble unless it came from their dwindling supplies.

But they were making progress. There were not a great number of masters in Lys, the problem was the sheer number of slaves some owned; and the shock the change in practice brought to the economy. It had taken a few days to convince the brothel owners and pleasure houses that they were not trying to outlaw their businesses; only owning the women who worked for them.

However, it was a handful of small ones who accepted the new laws and returned to their trade, the others were proving more difficult. And those who had household guards were banding together to create problems, the Unsullied were working to keep the peace as they tried to make the city feel safe again.

Last night looters, likely the guards of masters still opposing the newly free pleasure houses had attacked a brothel and killed several girls. However, the Unsullied had been alerted and given chase, the men were used to fighting together and calm under pressure had followed the looters back to a city estate; this morning Jorah walked through the carnage.

They had lost a few men and had a few injured but the looters and at least two of their masters had died in the fighting. That a silver dragon had burned the gates for the Unsullied was a small matter, the men were battle hardened and had a very personal stake in this fight. The stone around the gates and the guard houses were warped from dragon fire, and he wasn't questioning the bones Jahara was currently gnawing on; but the mark on his chest twitched.

Grey Worm reported on the situation as they walked it, the man had insisted he walk with a pair of guards flanking him; he hadn't bothered to argue. Both men had led the maneuver last night and added their own insight. Hopefully this would serve as a lesson to any others who hoped to challenge them.

"Who tipped us off?" Jorah questioned as he eyed the ornate home, it was built for sheer luxury; the man who owned it could have lived had he agreed to pay those who worked for him.

"A woman." Brown Slug murmured, looking a little uncomfortable at the question and after a hard look from his Commander; the man continued. "Vena, a woman I met in a free establishment."

Jorah nodded; he knew it was more a matter of companionship that took the Unsullied to establishments like that; being castrated did not stop other instincts. Some had unconventional relationships, and that they were mostly good men it seemed unfair they could not have families. A few had found other ways; he did not question the ways the men built their relationships but some were raising sons and daughters they did not give seed to with the love and pride only a father could give; the women they chose a certain respectability.

"I'd like to speak to her." He told the young man.

Brown Slug looked uncomfortable but nodded, and as they turned back to the streets Jorah felt the hair on the back of his neck stand up. It was a strange sensation; one he'd once relied upon and yet it took him a moment to place it; questioning why it was not the dragon's mark that stirred.

But he did not notice anything on the street and as Brown Slug introduced him to the woman the soldier was clearly interested in, Jorah scanned the area. He left the personal discussion to the soldier's Commander; it touched a little close to home for him; Vena was clearly with child.

As Grey Worm broached the subject a huge shadow passed over head and Jorah craned his neck; hearing Jahara's shrill shriek of delight as she took flight. As a sliver streak took to the sky he tried to see if the dark dragon had a rider; his thoughts going home immediately. Daenerys had not ridden in months; she was in no condition to mount, let alone fly for hours; and though he longed to see her, not on dragon back.

He started through the streets, trying to track the huge shadows, he was unable to tell if Daenerys was perched between the dragon's wings; at such a height she was hardly more than a speck on his scales. The dragons lighted in another part of the city, but as he approached, they took flight once more; Jorah stared skyward again.

"Jorah Mormont." A voice he barely recognized stopped him in his tracks; the hair on the back of his neck stood on end. "You remember me Jorah."

He swallowed hard as he turned to find the voice, he remembered it; he remembered that voice all to well. And it had been years, many in fact, not all of which had been good.


	35. Chapter 35

She watched Jahara join her siblings, as she eased herself carefully down Drogon's wing, her son unusually patient as she took cautious steps and held onto the folds of his wing. The babe in her belly had quieted the moment she reached up to the huge black dragon, resting for the whole of the flight as though comforted against the rough scales pressed to her belly.

Daenerys had asked Jorah to sail for Lys, and she still believed his presence here was necessary; but she couldn't do without him. He'd been gone too long and last night a dream had finally caught her; it was Missandei who woke her, screaming and soaked in sweat, her belly rolling as the child flailed within her. Nothing had settled her until she set her mind upon finding her husband and leaving her fears and dreams in his strong arms.

Missandei had been set against it but unable to sway her as the thought finally calmed the nerves that raced within her. Jorah. Her husband was steady and safe, even if she knew he would not be at all pleased to see her in Lys.

And as she followed Jahara's path she found him in the market, Daenerys kept her hair covered, the loose cloak swirled about her and she blended in with others who scurried through the streets. Only when she saw him, still dressed in full armor did she freeze; realizing he spoke to another woman. Pretty, dressed in the island customs which left little to the imagination; though the jewels that glittered on her said she knew wealth.

As she drew closer their child kicked, but Daenerys remained tense; she could see that he was uneasy, and his voice was tense. "I remember."

"Do you? Do you remember the dreams we had? The life and the home." The woman laughed but her husband's jaw remained tight; her spine tightened, and the child jabbed painfully against her ribs as the woman eased closer to him. "Its not too late you know."

The connection dawned on her before the woman continued speaking; his wife. The one who had been in another place and with another man when they first met was here now and interested once more; unwittingly she'd sent him to cross her path. Daenerys took stock of the woman and felt a quiver of jealousy grow within her, while her own body was swollen and ungainly his ex wife was solidly ten years older but lithe and pretty; probably as beautiful as Jorah remembered her.

"You've done well for yourself and from what I've heard the Dragon Queen does not keep strict rules for her advisors; we could find those dreams again." The woman drew close to him, pressing herself into his side as Jorah frowned; unaware that she was watching them. "They're still possible you know, a home and family; a son of your own blood."

"He'll have one soon enough." Fire raced through her as her temper rose. Jorah pivoted sharply towards her and hardly paused in reaching for her arms, his eyes hardening as she knew he felt uneasy. "And has no need of you."

Jorah was silent and the woman looked between them for a long moment, Daenerys met her gaze coldly in challenge; this was the woman who had watched him go into exile and then abandoned him. She had no right to speak of his dreams when she would not stand by him, she knew Jorah had long wanted to be settled man; that love would drive him to do many things. He would be a father, and he would have his dreams; but Lynesse Hightower would have no part of them. They were hers to share now.

Under her glare the woman dipped her head and slipped back into the streets, Jorah's hand slid over her back, he remained tense and uneasy. She knew he wasn't happy that she was here now, nor that she had come upon Drogon's back. But she saw that he was also shaken by all of this.

"Khaleesi, are you well?" He scanned her face as his palm slid over her belly and she hoped he felt his child responding.

"I am well, but I fear my dreams have begun to play." She tried not to cringe at the images that had plagued her with increasing frequency since he had left for Lys. "I feared what might happen here."

"We are gaining ground, but it will take time; last night we may have dealt a decisive blow. The slave masters lost ground and many of their guards." Jorah had already begun guiding her through the street and she expected he would head for their base in the city, but instead he took her to the harbor. His hand on her arm was gentle, but he motioned to the crew of a rowboat and shifted to help her down into it. "It is not safe for you here."

Daenerys frowned; he didn't want her here and did not seem pleased to see her for a moment; he didn't even want her in the city. What was really happening in Lys? This was more than Jorah being overprotective or careful, she had expected that he would be uneasy having her here, especially in her condition; but her grown sons had come with her. If they were struggling to take Lys, Drogon and Rhaegal could certainly change the tide.

And getting up onto the ship was not an easy thing do to do in her condition, heavy with child and already tired from the flight; even though Lys was a shorter flight than even Volantis. Jorah did more of the work than she wanted to admit, her husband guided her back to the largest cabin and brought her some food.

"You believe that I have taken a foolish risk." She murmured as he rubbed her back, Daenerys sighed under his hands. "You have not seen my dreams, without you there I could not rest."

"I know." He murmured, blue eyes were clear and a little gentle; but there was an ice there. "Daenerys this is not a war we are fighting with swords and fire; we have lost men in battle; but we have also lost them in markets and streets. It can be as simple as accepting a piece of fruit or drink of water."

…

Seeing Lynesse again had jolted him, his wife's possessive interjection startled him; seeing how pale and exhausted she was worried him. He should have known Drogon would not cross the sea without her, and he should have known that twitching mark meant she was struggling.

And settling her in the chamber he was worried, she ate a little and then curled upon the bed to sleep; Jorah stayed at her side, one hand resting upon her belly. It was not only his wife who came to this treacherous island, their babe came with her. It had been some time since he had seen her, her belly was swollen but it had dropped and the whole of it rippled with the babe's movements.

But she slept only a short time and then began to squirm and thrash; Jorah shifted her into his arms in attempt to soothe her. Eventually she slept peacefully again, and then he rose to get an update from Grey Worm; and increase the security of their fleet.

Hearing the beat of leather wings, he looked up to see the dragons circling overhead, slightly relieved to see that the dragons were staying close to her now. Rhaellys dipped down and Jorah had to duck from her path; he did not trust her as he did Jahara.

Still as he watched the dragons with one eye, watching the small rowboat approaching with the Unsullied Commander; he couldn't help but think the dragons were waiting. The man told him that the city was cowed by the last nights events, the city was quiet and the richest of the masters was dead; the guards of many with him. Jorah wondered if that was the man Lynesse had been with; he knew it was not out of long suppressed feelings that sent her to find him.

"We're patrolling the city and have been granted access to several estates and establishments; they are accepting the Queen's terms." Grey Worm reported, the man's voice revealed his concern.

So, Jorah informed him of his wife's arrival, that she was tired but unharmed; he didn't try to explain the vision that brought her across the sea. He didn't understand it himself, but he knew what the dreams could do to her; and he had rarely seen her as tired as she was now.

"She cannot remain in the city." Grey Worm murmured, stating something he had already decided.

Daenerys had gentle heart, but poison was a nasty thing, even if they could keep her from taking anything to eat or drink there were other ways; and the people of Lys knew each one. Some were powerful enough, a small scratch or little more than a touch; taking the hand of a child or woman could kill. And that was a risk long after the island city was at peace.

"We don't force a peace with this city, we take it and install a leader of our own and the laws of Valyria, then, I think she will return home." He spoke frankly with their commander, they relied upon him heavily and would be trusting his instincts. "But once the demand is cut the source and supply must be eliminated as well. I will settle the Khaleesi and return to you."

They did not need any more enemies with power behind them, the Lannisters still lurked in the far East with questionable ties to Westeros; but if the slavers joined them it would be a different matter. He knew his wife saw every slaver in the same light, but there were many types of them. And that meant there were many wealthy men they did not want to see coming together, while dragons may be a powerful asset, men would learn how to fight them; and would look at other methods of opposing her.

Jorah returned to his wife and found her asleep; though the blankets were twisted around her. Seeing her gave him a sense of peace, his home was with her; wherever they were in the world. But in this moment, he was worried, for her safety and for their next move. She needed to be in Valyria, with family as their child arrived, and he did want to be there.

He was sitting on the edge of the bed when she began to shift, curling around him before her eyes even opened. Jorah slid his hand along her side, feeling the baby kick within her again; he wondered if that was what had woken her.

"I know you and Grey Worm are planning how to send me home." She murmured sliding her hand into his.

"We only want you to be safe." He replied quietly.

"Are you safe here?" She countered, then her eyes narrowed. "How will the man Lynesse left you for feel about her attempt to turn back the clock?"

"It doesn't matter." Jorah sighed; he should have known that she wouldn't let that interaction slide. He hadn't known she was in Lys, but he was not surprised that she had settled there, it was a tropical island that the wealthy had favored since the days of Old Valyria. "I would suspect he's dead."

"Does she remind you of home? Of the past?" His wife asked quietly and made him freeze; was that what she thought?

"Not of home, but she does remind me of the past." But not in a way she needed to worry about. Lynesse was a reminder of his mistakes, of things he should not have done; in those days he'd had a very different vision of what his world should be. He could easily promise her that he had no regrets. "You are my present, and my future."

"And you mine." She whispered quietly.

…

Jorah shifted next to her through the night and she knew he wasn't really asleep; he was tense and would be until she went home. But Daenerys intended to see this through and go home with him; she did not intend to be alone when this child came. And she knew it would be coming soon.

Lys was different than what she had expected, or maybe it was more complicated; on the surface things seemed calm. The area around the dock was bustling with activity, small fishing boats came in and people went about their lives; but it was not so simple. Jorah and Grey Worm were determined to keep her on the boat in the harbor as her dragons soared overhead; perhaps they were the reason things were quiet.

Last night the men told her about the events of the past week and even last day or so, they didn't believe things were quiet or that this was the last stop they needed to make. But they were also treating her as though she was made of glass and had not crossed the sea on dragonback; she did not need to be sheltered.

She had traveled with the Horde when pregnant under far different circumstances, lived in war camps and survived the Red Waste; coming into her own to liberate Dragon's Bay. Only in Lys she was no longer a girl who did not know what it was to conquer or rule, she listened to her husband and Commander, their plans for Lys and for Volantis; the men were right.

Now Daenerys stood at the rail as she watched the city flow, her husband looked tired this morning, but he joined her, and she smiled as his hands slid around her. She needed this, she had needed to sleep yesterday, and she had missed having him close.

"How is the baby this morning?" Jorah asked before his hand slid around to rub her back; a sensation that nearly made her moan in contentment.

"Better that she has been in a while." She leaned back into him; the child shifted.

"A girl is it?" He murmured, amusement in his voice.

"Maybe, perhaps it is simply a Northerner; already taking after its father." Daenerys was not sure in truth, but the child was strong and that mattered most to her; she could not lose another babe. Still she felt sure the dragons had returned to stay; to unite the heart and guardian in the new world.

"I hope our daughter will favor her mother, fierce and strong." Jorah whispered.

"How much of the city resists us?" Daenerys asked.

"A few of the masters may still have some men, but they are quiet for now; they may be for some time. We will gather the nobles today and offer them a chance to swear allegiance, the Unsullied will maintain patrols while we establish new leadership and appoint a warden of Lys to uphold your rule." Jorah explained calmly. "You do not have to remain here for all of that."

"Grey Worm will appoint an Unsullied lieutenant to join the new council and remain in the city permanently; a small guard unit will remain here." Her thoughts went to the discussion they had last night, he wanted to send men on to Volantis after this and she knew a fight of that scale would require the dragons fly ahead.

After that there was going to be other battles to fight on the mainland, other masters who would not want to give up the men they believed they could own. If outlawing slavery meant claiming the East, then they would take the East, with magic and dragon fire.

"If the masters surrender, we fly for Valyria tonight." Daenerys told him quietly as Rhaellys swooped low before them and she felt the child shift within her.

"And you will stay there." He muttered. She sighed; with a new child she would have little choice but to remain in Valyria; but that thought did not make her sad.

But as the day wore on the child squirmed within her and she felt her husband's eyes; he had noticed that she was uncomfortable. Yet she could not let him see just how much or they would not fly for home tonight. Daenerys sat between her grown children as the masters considered their options, Jahara had found a perch on a nearby building but she didn't know where Rhaellys had gone.

She listened as Jorah outlined the conditions set upon Lys and what would happen in the days that followed; what would happen if the masters tried to claim men as property again. Drogon and Rhaegal had a certain effect on people, some might believe they had a chance against the younger ones, those men were fools; but even fools knew when to yield.

And Lys yielded, the island city would submit to her rule, at least in words. The Unsullied would establish a new government in the estate of the master who had lost his life the night before she arrived. No one trusted the Lysini and she gave Grey Worm a warning to be vigilant.

Late that afternoon she climbed carefully onto Drogon's back, her husband's strong arms wrapping around her before they launched into the air. Three dragons soared over the island before heading into the Smoking Sea, leaving the first outpost of their young nation.

"Are you alright?" Jorah asked over her shoulder as they were engulfed in smoke.

She didn't answer, he'd know by her voice that she was lying, and she wasn't sure they were far enough that he would not try to turn them back. The child was not quiet on this flight and danced against the dragon scales pressed to her belly. But when she felt her belly tighten, twitching uncomfortably, she was worried.

Suddenly her belly cramped, and she was unable to mask her gasp as Drogon banked down; seeing that Rhaegal and Jahara were ahead of her mount. Jorah's grip next to her own shifted and she knew he had heard the sound she made and while one hand held tightly to a spike on Drogon's back his other arm wrapped around her.

"Daeneys?" There was alarm in his voice now as the dragons spiraled into the smoke.

"They want to land." She murmured nervously, sensing the land approaching them through the mists that shrouded it.

She could not call the dragons up, the mountains around them steep and she saw Jahara land first, then Rhaegal's form shifted as he found ground as well. And then Drogon pulled his wings in to land as well, taking several steps to stop his great body; her belly cramping harshly again.

As she regained control, she tried to urge her son back into the air, longing for their stone house and the familiar comfort of the room that they had shared so many nights. But Drogon would not be convinced to fly again and Jorah helped her down the huge dragon's wing and a bolt of flame lit their surroundings.

There were four dragons in a semi circle about a dark pool, perched in a semi circle; the circle completed by a great tree with white bark and red leaves. She had seen a tree similar to this in the North, she'd seen trees like this in her dreams and in the pools that Jorah could summon images from. Daenerys glanced uncertainly at her husband, trembling slightly as her belly tightened and this time she felt waters run down her legs; the child was coming.

She had not seen Rhaellys flying with them, but the young blue dragon sat nearest to the tree and screeched at them. Her husband guided her towards that tree, helping her to lay on the soft moss that grew thickly over the roots and to the edge of the pool. His hands found her belly as the child kicked and her flesh cramped powerfully, blue eyes met hers; there was no hiding now.

"Daenerys, I do not know how to help you." Her husband whispered, the dragon's fire flickered on the waters, on the steep rocks that surrounded the clearing; steep cliffs rose on either side of them.

"Hold me." She whispered, knowing he was all that she needed and all that he had. And in this sheltered place she suddenly felt the history surrounding her like the dragons that watched over her; Rhaellys still screeched at them.

Jorah did as she bid, but only for a moment before his hands were back on her belly their child moving restlessly. Daenerys pulled at her dress, lifting her skirts as she shifted to her knees, her hand groping her belly; she was not sure what to do either. But each time her belly contracted the pain became worse and she knew the child ached to meet the world.

Her husband moved about her, lighting a small fire and slipping free of his armor so that he could move easily. As he soaked some fabric, he'd ripped from his shirt she gasped as Rhaellys nudged her roughly before Jorah could turn back. The young dragon did not back off as her husband returned to her, or as he waved an arm trying to urge her backwards; instead issued a vicious screech as her body contracted.

Neither Drogon nor Jahara reacted to chide the sapphire dragon's attitude, but then her husband froze. "Daenerys, has Rhaellys been absent lately?"

"No more than usual." She muttered uneasily, unsure of what he was seeing now; but when the dragon crowded them again Jorah didn't block it.

"She has a clutch of eggs here Khaleesi, sheltered in the roots; the others must have come to her." Jorah's eyes slid over her, the dragons had brought her as well; and she struggled to sit up so that she could see the clutch.

But as Rhaellys watched Jorah eased forward until he knelt to lift an egg of pale blue under the watchful eye of four dragons; there were several low chatters of approval as he handed it to her. The egg was warm and quivered in her hands, the dragon within new and eager for life; she studied the sapphire blue dragon.

Rhaellys wanted no rider, but she had given them a clutch of eggs, and one must be meant for their own babe. Before he could climb back between the roots Daenerys cried out for him, her body clenching painfully and wanting her husband to hold her.

And Jorah did hold her, letting her use his strong arms to bear down as the baby reached for the world. Out of the corner of her eye she could see the dragon egg, she focused on it as she heaved; straining for her breath.

She knelt upon the moss and leaned on her husband's frame, he stroked her back and pushed back her hair; doing all that he could to help her. As her body tensed the egg trembled and she thought of how they had hatched the vibrant silver and blue eggs.

"Jorah." Daenerys whispered, the egg was before her, waiting to meet the child as soon as it was free of her body, but it was the guardian's blood which cracked its mother's shell. "The child waits for its dragon to hatch."

He looked between her and the egg for a long moment, then as another contraction hit her, her husband opened his palm and brushed it over the egg in a distracted motion; she felt the warmth of his blood on her arm as his focus returned to her. Her belly churned and her sharp gasp of pain was matched by Jorah's surprise as she slumped on his shoulder; his hands reached between her legs.

Daenerys wrapped her arms about his neck to keep herself from collapsing to the ground, her husband's thumbs brushed between her legs, holding a part of their child she couldn't see. And as pain wrenched through her once more her husband let a choked sound of his own, Daenerys looked down to see him holding a child coated in blood close to her.

She reached for it, but the child still reached into her body with one foot, her fingers grazed the child's cheek; it was a little girl. Jorah looked fearfully up at her, so many emotions in those blue eyes as he quickly slid the shirt from his back to wrap the child in it. Suddenly the babe let out a cry that made them both laugh nervously and on it she heard the distinct cracking sound.

Only it did not come from the egg next to her knee, and when Jorah helped her to lay back Rhaellys screeched at them again. Their child lay upon the soft moss as her husband climbed back between the roots under a sapphire gaze. But her sore body rested until Jorah lay an egg of smoky blue next to her and fear gathered as her belly quickened once more.

"There is another." She whispered, now unable to rise though her fingers ran over the child who had cried but once.

No wonder her belly had shifted so much in the moons, two children played within her; and only one was free of her body now. Jorah muscled her up, his strength serving them both as he leaned her into his shoulder as he kept one hand free to help with the babe. Her body struggled to bring forth the second child, but she could see two eggs quivering and suddenly the babe that lay on the moss reached a tiny arm toward the pale egg.

The second child did not make them wait and when the baby lay beside its twin on the soft moss her husband lay her back, heating his own blade to cut both children free of her body and then wiping each with his shirt before laying them upon her chest. Daenerys cradled them both, her hands soothing their tiny backs and studying perfect features; two perfect little girls.

They had two daughters and it was the second born who opened her eyes first, a deep and smoky blue, then the second opened her eyes of pale blue; both had their father's expressive eyes. Jorah moved uneasily about her, he had stripped to the waist to warm their children and used strips of her skirts to clean her; to help with the afterbirth.

Then he carefully lifted her up and settled her and their babes into a sunken nest between two great roots, close to the fire and cushioned on thick moss. Daenerys stopped his shifting by grabbing his wrist, and then whispered a command to her own mount.

"Dracarys." A command that Drogon had never ignored, but it was not her huge dark son who responded.

Rhaellys offered the flame which engulfed the two eggs and bloody mess about them from the birth; the two hatchlings born in the blood of both heart and guardian. And as the flames extinguished, she heard the tiny cries of the hatchlings, it was then that both the babes upon her chest began to cry.

"Hush." She whispered softly, tired and yet so pleased to hear their strong cries, to feel their little bodies squirming against her breasts; her daughters had been born perfect and whole.

But the children did not stop crying until their father lay two small hatchlings in her arms as well; the tiny dragons hot against her skin. Jorah lay a hand on the back of each girl; the dragons were certain to keep them warm; but it was their father who should make them feel safe. He made her feel safe here, kneeling beside her before he leaned in to kiss her brow.

Daenerys closed her eyes to sleep for a few moments, longing to rest a few moments before her waking to nurse her children; her husband watched it all with open pleasure. He cradled the first girl after she was fed, the gentleness and love in his face clear to see a moment before he reached for the small hatchling and tucked in next to the child; baby cooed, and hatchling chattered.


	36. Chapter 36

They spent the night in the clearing, Daenerys napped when she could, each time babe or hatchling moved she woke to stroke a back or touch a tiny hand or wing; Jorah wondered if she was checking that they were real. Each time he circled their small clearing he glanced back at them, checking for himself.

Daenerys had been incredible, strong enough to bear their daughters with no women or maester to help her. But her arms were full of children and two blue tiny dragons, Jorah longed to wrap them all in his arms and rest with them; however, he had to keep them safe and figure out how to get them home. She should not have been flying so heavy with child, but now their girls were so small, and they were somewhere in the flames.

His wife had woken once more and bared her breast for the second born girl with smoky blue eyes who lipped at her flesh until Daenerys tucked her nipple into the tiny mouth. The child suckled greedily, and Jorah knelt to stroke the pale cheek; his wife rubbed the little back.

Jorah lifted that baby from her arms once she had finished eating and tucked his daughter against his skin as he circled the clearing once more, taking steady steps as he rocked her. The dragons would keep them safe enough, but he was suspecting they would be the only way out of here.

"I want to call her Visenya, and this one Sainna because she has your eyes." Daenerys whispered as he felt his throat close, of course she would choose their daughter's names; but his mother had been called Sainna.

He had been his parent's only child and named for his father's line, but his daughter would bear the name of a grandmother she would never know; a strong Northern woman. And Visenya for the Targaryen warrior Queen who helped conquer the West, powerful names for their girls who would rule Valyria after Daenerys.

"Visenya." He whispered to the little one in his arms, eyes closed in sleep again as he rubbed her back; keeping her warm in his arms. Jorah roamed the clearing as the first light began to filter through the smoke that rose off the water, on the stone cliffs that surrounded them he found the marks of their ancestors; the marks he could read.

Some were names and others dates, he realized they had not come to this place by chance, Rhaellys, the sapphire dragon had not chosen it for her clutch by accident; something within must have guided her here. The carvings were ancient until he came to spot where the stone was freshly marked, a narrow column of writing directly behind the great heart tree made him freeze. In the first row his own name and the year of his birth carved where the stone smoothed out, there was a small gap and then last year's numerals with Jahara's name written across from his.

Directly below was his wife's name, birth and Drogon's name, but what shocked him was that below their daughter's names had already appeared, the year of their birth was etched twice; they shared their name day with their dragons but no names were recorded. He had been born on Bear Island deep in the North, while Daenerys born in a summer storm upon Dragonstone in the South, far from this clearing and yet the dragons had recorded them here with the names and dragons of the world.

But look as he might he did not find the names of any dragon riders born after the doom, the men and women who he had heard of in tales and songs. Instead each column seemed to represent an era, and he didn't know how many generations each held; but some of the oldest lines went right to the mossy floor. And Jorah swallowed hard, to the right and the left of theirs was another column; he was not sure where another family would fit.

Cradling one of his infant daughters he recognized that their family had a part to play, and as Jorah looked to his own dragon, he realized this was why they had been brought here; to understand the truth and the dream. To complete the circle, or as his wife liked to put it, to break the wheel; either way they were meant to do something.

As daylight warmed the clearing through the smoke he lay Visenya back into her mother's arms and then carefully checked that his wife was not still bleeding from the birth. He didn't know too much about childbirth, but she was weak and sore; if she were bleeding now, he might lose her yet. But Daenerys only winced as he washed her with warm water and then asked if they could go home.

"There is something you need to see first." He promised her, wanting her to know that he did intend to get her to the comfort of their home.

…

In the warm clearing Jorah held her steady, moving intuitively each time she reached out to touch the stone cliffs so that she could explore without spending her energy. Daenerys was in awe, the history that they had long wondered about, those who came before them and their dragons, but as the sunlight burned off the fog she realized the odd details of their shelter, the coarse material at the waters edge was not stone but scales; they must have been made of thousands of shattered shells.

The fresh shells of the two eggs lay in the thick moss which cushioned the floor would crumble into scales as the two tiny hatchlings clung to Jorah's shoulder close to the children they were bound to. How many dragons had come to this place before Rhaellys to lay their clutch of eggs? Was this where her own children had originally lay centuries ago?

The dragons had brought her here as her time came, and some magic had recorded them upon the ancient walls that had survived the doom somehow protected from stone men and nature. When Jorah lay her back beside the water, gathering his armor and lining the chest plate with moss before he brought it back to her, wrapping the strap about her waist and fixing it loosely over her chest; their children sheltered snuggled against her breasts.

Together they climbed upon Drogon's back, but this time he mounted first and let her wrap her arms about him; she was too sore to grip and guide with her thighs. In truth even mounting was painful, but it was necessary if they were to go home and the flight was not long. They were in the flames that rimmed the islands, not too far from home.

The dragons soon circled the city, tipping their wings to descend until Drogon landed upon the perch. She smiled when Missandei appeared at the top of the stairs, her face full of concern as Jorah guided Daenerys down Drogon's wing. Her friend laughed as two tiny dragons poked their heads from the plate she wore and chattered in a song answered by the larger ones.

"Your grace!" Missandei exclaimed as she realized there were two babes tucked within the chest plate she wore.

"Rhaellys wanted Sainna and Visenya to be born with their dragons." She sighed as Jorah helped her to sit back onto the bed and she held the babies as he released the straps that held the plate in place.

"They need to be bathed, and so do you; and something to eat." Missandei instructed gently, her fingers tracing lightly over Sainna's cheek. "You had them alone?"

"I wasn't alone." She murmured, Jorah had been with her; and so had the dragons.

Jorah brought her a warm bowl and fresh bread to eat as Missandei bathed both girls, wrapping them in clean silks. She watched as Sainna, wrapped in soft purple was immediately lifted into her father's arms when she fussed at being placed in the cradle. Visenya was bathed second and then wrapped in a the warmest of blues, a contrast to the smoky of her blue of her own eyes; the smoky hatchling sung eagerly to be reunited with the baby.

Daenerys now washed up herself, dressed in a soft shift, and tucked into her own bed reached out for Visenya and lay the hatchling upon her lap. She held her daughter to her breast and rubbed her little back as the baby eagerly nursed, pleased that the baby was hungry. Visenya had the thinnest wisps of soft, red blond hair like her father; Sainna had her father's eyes and no hair yet.

She slept between feedings, usually only finding one of their daughters in the cradle at a time; the other in Jorah's arms. Her husband did not rest, he was working, in and out of the room to check on her and pick up whichever girl cried or fussed as he entered. Daenerys heard his voice and that of others as he held meeting in the sitting room, updating himself on what was happening in Valyria; and meeting a man from Bravos who had arrived with the very first shipment from the allied city.

Few men would take a great part in child rearing, but already her husband ignored the norm; leaving his meetings as he heard their daughters and holding them as he took reports. She was dozing when he knocked softly, and she frowned a moment until he realized he had Kyri with him; the little girl peeked shyly at the babies.

"Come here." She whispered, leaning over to lift her daughters from their cradle.

Kyri lived with Missandei and Grey Worm now, and she smiled at the short leather sheath on her belt; the little one must be missing the Unsullied Commander. Often, he taught the girl to fight on the neighboring rooftops in the evening. Jorah quietly told her that Missandei had gone to the market and the neighbor Kyri usually stayed with was out.

"They are very little; you must be gentle." She instructed the child, urging her to sit against the headboard before laying Sainna in her lap; the pale blue hatchling hopping across the cover.

The young girl giggled as the hatchling scolded them for moving the baby, and those giggles continued as Sainna grabbed her finger. "Why is her name Sainna?"

"Our daughters are Sainna and Visenya for the will lead Valyria after us, they will be strong dragon riders, warriors who must know justice, honor and leadership. They will fight against any who set out to wrong our people and so I gave them names of women who lived such lives." She told the little girl of the story, not of the dream she'd had after she labored; the visions of women she'd never met. But she suspected that dream had been helped by the stories she'd been told as a girl; and the memories her husband sometimes shared.

"Sainna was a Northern women, Jorah's mother and Lady of Bear Island, but she was a fierce warrior who led the defense of her home while the men were away at sea. She fought with a war ax and the ferocity of the bear on their sigil to protect her young son; to protect all the people of Bear Island. My Sainna will be her peoples champion, her arms will open to comfort them, her hands will wipe away many hurts and she will weep for their hardships, but on dragonback she will fly out to defend them." Daenerys whispered the story, stroking the cheek of the child Kyri held; cradling the second in her arms. "I named Visenya for the smoke in her eyes, the smoke of this land for she will hear and see the world beyond our smoking sea, she will soar far and wide over this world to ensure the laws of our land are kept and any land or nation she finds in disorder she will conquer with the strength of Valyria; on the promise that all men shall live free and the magic of death will be overthrown."

"I will fight for them." Kyri whispered, cradling Sainna carefully in her arms. "I will fight for Valyria."

"Someday you may, but do not fight just for the nation, or the Queen; fight for the right reason. For the reason they call you to battle, fight to defeat the slaver, to free the person…"

"To heal the child." Kyri whispered, looking up at her with those haunting eyes.

"Yes. To heal the child, so that no more are cast aside to die in cursed lands far from home. And for the knowledge, for the healers to provide medicine to many." Daenerys affirmed, thinking of the girl's own journey. "In Valyria we will not oppose another nation to claim their wealth or their lands; we oppose the way their people are treated. We oppose the slavers, we oppose the wealthy who walk upon the poor; and those who kill innocents for their magic or gain."

It was a realization that had been a long time coming, one she wasn't sure she knew until just now; holding her own children in the place she called home. A place thought cursed, far from the kingdoms she had once longed to rule, and that she had turned from after a fierce battle, ceding that longing to another as she searched for her own path; the place that she gave very little thought to now. She had wanted Westeros as her entitlement, she had wanted it for the same reasons her brother had, and her enemies had; the same reasons her ancestors had expanded the Valyrian Freehold.

Not the reasons that had begun her journey so many years ago, her true journey that was. She'd gone in search of an army, and instead found the first taste of her purpose; a purpose she was still learning today. The purpose she wanted her daughters to live for, to unite nations for. No, it would not always be the beautiful dream she had, it would be won with fire and blood by times; but that would not be all Valyria was known for.


	37. Chapter 37

Jorah waited only a fortnight before he saw that he must take the dragons and head for Volantis, however he did not intend to be gone very long. Grey Worm had installed Brown Slug and his unit in Lys to support the new council and ensure their laws were kept. And Jorah would keep an eye on that, but their men were on route to Volantis and with Jahara, Rhaegal and Rhaellys he intended to smooth the way.

The Volantenes had seen the dragons numerous times before with no reason to fear them, however today they circled the city and then banked towards the estate of the Triarch. Jahara had yet to allow him to climb upon her back, but he'd fashioned a sling of sorts for himself that made the distance easier and as the Unsullied took the harbor two dragons lit upon the estate walls.

Rhaegal spit a huge ball of flame into the air, and Jorah noted the collars upon the 'servants' which scattered from the yard as household guards hurried forward; Jahara sent a warning in their direction as he stepped to the ground with his sword drawn. Rhaellys, who he'd been surprised flew with them, left her perch upon the wall to cut off the forces trying to swarm in from the gatehouse. The two younger dragons had smaller wingspans and could easily dip between the buildings of the estate while if Rhaegal were to try he would wreak utter destruction and Jorah first intended to offer the Triarch the opportunity to surrender.

However, he was not going to allow this to be a drawn-out siege or event, Volantis was powerful enough that this had to be a decisive; word of Lys would be spreading by now. And when archers peppered them with arrows, Jahara sheltering him with her wings as she screamed in anger, Rhaegal rained fire upon them and then turned to screech at whoever approached from the other side of the wall.

Dragon fire had a way of changing men's hearts and the guards who had approached stood nervously in the streets and courtyard; looking amongst themselves. And though the dragons roared their threats they did not spit fire at will; but waited for an attack. They would not destroy the city for the sake of it, but as he strode forward, he paused, reaching out to take hold of the collar a trembling man wore; with a careful jerk of the pin he pulled it free and tossed it aside.

"The Dragon Queen, Queen of Valyria, and Khaleesi of the Dothraki Daenerys Targaryen will call to war any who chain their fellow man." He spoke loud and clear so that all the men in the streets, the men who lived as slaves in a city claiming to be free who would be forced to die in the dragon's flames; the reason they had come. "Throw down your weapons and remove your chains, our quarrel is not with you."

Men quickly complied and Jorah strode forward, Jahara shadowed him from above as he found his way into the great house. Word spread quickly and the servants of the estate poured out around him, Jorah did not stop them, he was not looking for them.

The Triarch was made of three men, Jorah had made it his business to know a little of their holdings long ago and chose his quarry well; he had no mercy for this man. And when a pair of guards chose to face him, a last attempt to save their master, Jorah dispatched them quickly; using the Valyrian steel of his breast plate.

Jorah let the first strike his chest, knowing the plate would stop the spear as he swung his sword high and gave the first a quick death. The second tried high, likely intending to strike his head or neck; hoping for a weak spot; Jorah struck him hard about the head with the hilt of his sword and continued on. He found his quarry cowering in a great chamber.

Volantis was a wealthy and ancient city, however it had great debts, two members of the Triarch were deeply indebted to this man; and in effect he held the power of this city. He had intended to offer the man a chance to surrender and retain a place of power in the city.

When the man swung weakly at him, Jorah frowned, he easily had ten years on this man but was barely fit to swing the sword. In disgust he slashed the weapon away and glared as it clattered to the floor; a man of that age should still be able to use his weapon.

"Surrender, swear allegiance to Queen of Valyria and Khaleesi Daenerys Targaryen and live; or die." Jorah offered no other choice, and carefully watched the cowering man who fell to his knees.

Taking the man roughly by the shoulder Jorah led him from the estate and into the streets; finding his way to the great Red Temple of the lord of light where many an important announcement had been made. He was escorted by the dragons and behind him the streets filled with the noble and the poor alike; for all knew what dragons meant. The Dragon Queen did not enforce the strict class rules of the world, an ex slave served as her Commander, and as far as they knew Jorah, an exile and sell sword himself, acted as her agent; they were curious and emboldened.

The Unsullied who had been working into the city met him and kept order, allowing men, women and children to find places in the square and the great steps that Jorah climbed; dragging his hostage with him. The men of the Triarch believed themselves more important than even the people did; but today the man was on foot.

And a silver dragon lit upon the sloping red roof, watching his approach as Rhaellys and Rhaegal circled overhead. Jorah stood quietly, watching the great creatures swooping over the buildings and the harbor as Grey Worm gave him a quick report.

"We found one market, an estate is rumored to house another, tied to the wealthy in Volantis, Tyrosh and Pentos." The Commander informed him as several litters tried to force their way through; the wealthy of Volantis were arriving now.

Jorah nodded, it was not surprising that there was more than one market; the wealthy liked a certain environment and more than an open-air market near the harbor. The ones arriving now would know where it was, but he instructed Grey Worm to send a few men to try and find it while they took command of the city.

The Unsullied had dealt with the city guards as quickly as the dragons had dealt with the Triarch's household security. Now he addressed the people of the city, with their leader on his knees; as long as there were no tricks he would get to keep his life and some power.

"In the name of the Dragon Queen, Queen of Valyria and Khaleesi of the Dothraki Daenerys Targaryen, I claim Volantis as a part of Valyria once more, subject to the laws and decrees of the Queen. From this day forward slavery in all forms and trades is hereby outlawed, any man found to claim possession of another will face the Queen's justice. All working in any trade, establishment or household must be in the employ of another of their free will, with fair compensation." Jorah began to proclaim the laws of Valyria, knowing this was the first step in claiming the city.

They would need sweep the whole of the city and make arrangements for those freed, much of that would fall to Grey Worm and the Unsullied while he dealt with the political side of it. The members of the Triarch would be disappointed, their elections of leadership were no more, votes would not be bought with the gifts of young slaves or wealth and the great estates would see a shift in how they ran. As he finished Jahara gave a great roar, echoed by the others as if to emphasize the message, then he began to meet with the influential members of the city and got a little more than he bargained for.

…

Missandei lay Visenya back in the cradle as Daenerys nursed Sainna, the little girls were precious and so distinct; their little personalities already appearing. Visenya, who mewled in protest until her dragon Ciaran, the smoke and blue dragon was nestled next to her was a little more demanding and vocal; crying her demands to be nursed or held. While Sainna was quieter, watching with those beautiful light blue eyes; until sleep claimed her.

Sainna's dragon, the silvery blue scaled hatchling Muirrean was fierce and demanding enough for them both. Right now, the young hatchling perched upon her knee, still gnawing on the lamb bone the young hatchling, the tip of her tail rested on the baby's little arm. Daenerys rubbed the little back as the baby suckled contentedly, enjoying the quiet of these moments; she could not find words for how much she enjoyed them.

Jorah was in Volantis with all their dragons but Drogon, her mount had stayed when the others took wing; but that left her to deal with the petitions of Valyria. She felt safe relying upon her husband in those matters as she adjusted to finally becoming a mother, but she was also a Queen; and her people needed to be heard.

Daenerys gently burped her daughter and then lay her gently into the cradle with her sister; Muireann gave the fiercest screech a hatchling could manage before hopping towards the edge of the bed. She lifted the small dragon into the cradle and watched her curl up across the infant's leg; contented to be in reach of her human again.

"If they fuss to much send for me." She instructed the woman who sat in the rocking chair, carefully weaving another small blanket.

"Of course, my Queen." The old woman promised, smiling patiently at the instruction she'd been given every time Daenerys left the room.

She trusted the woman, and her loyalty, but it was very hard to leave her daughters even to simply go to the temple platform and hear petitions for the afternoon. But she knew the girls were in good hands, the old woman had raised countless children for her masters and had come to their door the afternoon she had arrived home with the girls to offer her help.

Soothing the girls as they fussed, dressing and swaddling them easily, recognizing what their cries meant. Teaching her many things and offering salves that were helping her recover and joining Missandei in urging her to eat; the twins had healthy appetites. And when she reached out for the child the scars of Jorah's magic were revealed on her wrists.

The temple platform had been built up over the past few months, much of it was still open to the air; but a shelter had been erected on the Western edge. Covering a wide section of marble floor where a chair had been erected and an area for citizens to wait, stretching to shade the pool and fire chamber as well. Kinvara spent hours there each day as well, speaking gently to the people and offering spiritual guidance that the people of the East looked for eagerly; they had even had a few pilgrims come for healing. The woman used certain potions to heal some and others waited for Jorah and the waters of the dragon pool; but the people of Valyria came to the platform for her justice.

Many were relatively simple and due to her people living much of their lives in slavery; unused to have freedom and choices of their own. Those petitions became fewer as time went on, others were more serious; Daenerys listened to all of them

Today as she was wrapping up a woman came forward, her husband had died unexpectedly and with three small children of her own Daenerys knew she must be struggling to get by. However, her plea was not for support, but to lay her husband to rest.

"Valyria is our home, the only place we have ever been free, where we have truly been a family. My husband helped to build the walls of this city, he worked hard because he believed in the Dragon's dream; your dream my Queen. We are Valyrian, we claim no other people or place; but how do I honor my husband? How do I honor him as citizen of this nation?" The woman spoke strong and clear, leaving Daenerys shocked.

It was not an issue that had come up, the Unsullied, the Dothraki and the people who had come with them all had their own ways; preserving the ways they'd had for centuries. The Dothraki burned their dead upon the pyre that they might ride in the Nightlands with their ancestors while the Unsullied had adopted the practice of laying their dead upon the fires with a collar at their feet; their short sword stabbed through it in a mark of their freedom and a remembrance of brothers in the past. Some had lay their dead upon the waters, a practice that came from the Southern Isles, but they had not named a manor that was solely Valyrian.

For a long moment Daenerys was silent, their nation was young and small but if she had her way the city of Valyria would remain that way; these islands would be a safe place for dragons to soar free. The heart and strong hold of the realm they were building, but as the heart they must serve the needs of their people; living and departed. It was dragons that made them unique, and the smoking lands in which they lived; the magic upon which they stood.

"If it would please you, we shall join your husband with the smoke of our land, and his memories will be with you always so will he be with the city he worked so hard to build." She spoke slowly, unwilling to offer the services of her dragons, their fire was her justice and magic. But another constant in their lives was the smoke of Valyria; of the sea around them. "Any Valyrian who wishes to be honored in custom of this nation shall be given over to the smoke of our land, their memory with us long after their presence has gone to the after world. In the Flames, where once men died below ground in the mines, we shall build above the ground a new place; where the dead may be laid to rest and where the families shall remember those they have loved."

The woman nodded and knelt, Daenerys was quiet, her eyes sliding to the Red Priestess who had been listening; she'd offered her no allowances. But the woman made no protests, Kinvara confused her for while she still spoke often of her lord of light and counselled those who followed him, she made no effort to preach to Daenerys or her husband. She regularly watched them at the pool and told them of those who came for healing beyond her ability; confessing that she had used blood magic in the past she would not do so now.

Kinvara was ancient in her own way and Daenerys had taken her guidance to heart; reassured that the woman's motives were innocent as time went on. However, she still struggled to pin down what those motives were, she was still regularly warned of the threats of dark magic, and in her dreams saw a vicious winter overtaking the lands. Though when Jorah looked to the West in the waters, he did not see the dead rising, yes, they were being hit by a hard winter but Westeros always was. Still the war with the dead was enough that Daenerys encouraged the dead to be burned, the battle for Winterfell was something she would never forget.


	38. Chapter 38

It was four days after he saw the ships approaching the port of Volantis that Jorah returned with the dragons. Stepping easily from the rigging he'd taught Jahara to carry onto the roof of their home as Daenerys sat on the bench with their young daughters in the evening. Drogon had warned her of their approach, his huge head down so that he could peer over her shoulder, inhaling the scent of the babies until he sensed his kin; as the dragon looked skyward Daenerys heard the sound of leather wings.

She'd seen the glint of her husband's armor only a few moments after Rhaegal returned his brother's roar; Jahara dropped the rigging from her claws soon after he'd stepped free of it. And Rhaellys swooped low, earning a screech of irritation from her own mount and skimming just above her head; chattering a greeting to the hatchlings that began to sing.

Jorah stepped close, laying a hand on Visenya's head for a moment and kissing her cheek. "How are my girls?"

"Sleepy, they've just nursed." She smiled softly as he nudged Muireann aside to greet Sainna in the same way; the infant eagerly grabbed his finger and held it tightly in her little fist. "Volantis?"

"A city of Valyria with the laws and decrees you set forth. We will also be expecting an envoy from Pentos; they are looking to get out ahead of our visits." Jorah informed her, nudging her over and shifting his sword to sit next to her; Daenerys waited as he loosened the straps that held his armor in place. "They're hoping to buy peace for their city, your roots are not unnoticed."

"I won't sell peace." She countered and saw his sly smile; he knew that.

"They're coming to you to negotiate Daenerys, you set the terms." Her husband gently eased Sainna across into his own arms and she sighed.

He was right, the Free Cities would be watching, there were only a few large ones left along the coast, most notably Pentos, Tyrosh and Myr. They had seen the Bravosi, who came to them for aide; and now how Lys and Volantis had been dealt with. They had discussed this already, Volantis had been a strategic move, either the cities that harbored slavers faced them or fought them.

With the Unsullied and the dragons, they had the better army, a fact proven time and again; but she knew their strongest opposition came from farther East. As far as she knew Cersei Lannister still lived, and deep in the East, in Qarth, Asshai and the Shadowlands beyond dark magic was still whispered in blood and death. They would face it, stamping it out with that of the dragons and building anew.

But her mind wove back to the beginning of their journey, to the families who sacrificed their children in the places where the guardians of long ago had sheltered; hiding from men who longed to be as powerful as the beasts they rode. Until fire rose from within the world to wipe them out.

Daenerys could not help but wonder if the doom was not the answer of the ancient dragons, no fire would burn hotter than that of the dragons who lived in the past; whose fire was so hot that they dwelled in the waters of the world. She believed the ancient dragons were a part of the magic that ran through Jorah and through her, it was Jorah who could see into the pools and see their message clearly; but she suspected it was in her dreams that they tried to call to her. Only there were other forces in this world at play as well.

…

He'd beat both the Unsullied and the galley from Pentos by several days, allowing him some time with his family; the girls had grown even in the few days he'd been gone. Jorah had lifted Visenya from the cradle before she woke her sister or mother fussing this morning. Ciaran hitched a ride on his shoulder as he climbed to the roof, rocking the child against his chest.

There were many things he could not do for these little girls, only their mother could feed them and teach them to be women; but he would teach them in the way all Northern girls were. Daenerys knew, she knew in naming them that their daughters would be as fierce on dragon back as they were with steel; that he did intend to teach them. But he would also enjoy their youth, watching them discover this world and themselves.

It was with some reluctance that he turned them over to Niamh, the woman who tended them with great care. But Daenerys was eager to look into the waters, and there were many things she was still trying to tell him; and many things they needed to consider.

Daenerys had not taken long to rest after the girls were born, returning to her duties and keeping this nation moving; and he knew that meant taking many things into consideration. She'd told him of the funeral ceremony and the small project that had been raised in flames, a long with updating him on other work projects and returns on the Bravosi alliance. Yet the promise of a second doom still played in the back of his mind, and all that they had learned since embracing that path more than a year ago.

They had seen glimpses and shadows of it as they discovered their own magic and other forces that played within this world; but they also knew there was more yet. The Warlocks were proof of that, as was Kinvara who had come to support them; admitting that there were two kinds of magic in the world. Of dragons and of death.

As he called the dragon from the depths Daenerys sat on the edge of the pool and motioned Kinvara over; they both knew the woman would lurk anyways. But over time the Red Priestess had proved herself, and they suspected she had returned because she had seen Valyria a long time ago; seen the true power of the dragons. She believed that he and Daenerys were bound for a life like hers, bound by the magic of the dragons and the purpose they were to serve.

But as he watched the dragon's jaws spread wide he was transported to a land he had not expected to see again; in Qarth tremors rolled outward. The city sustained heavy damage and in the House of the Undying Warlocks gathered, Daenerys stood and drew closer to him as they watched the scene before them. He did not see any sign of Cersei Lannister or Arya Stark before the image whipped away and they were shown a winter storm battering the West.

Next to him Daenerys gasped, and Jorah reached out a hand to steady her. "Winter in the West is always hard, especially in the North and we had a long summer; even Bravos is feeling this one."

"They have lost control of the magic in Qarth." She whispered, her hand wrapping tightly around his. "What if they cannot reclaim it?"

"Then we will." He promised.

But as the dragon slid away, returning to the depths as they considered what they had seen, Jorah tried to place the city of that vision. He'd seen a bit of Westeros, once he'd known the North quite well; he'd joined his liege lord at Winterfell to march men South in the Rebellion and sailed his own kin down the coast to join the efforts on Pyke. A storm like that in the North was par for the course, but he knew many of the Northern holdfasts; Jorah was not sure that was above the Neck.

Next to him Daenerys was moving, her eyes rising to the sky where the dragons soared overhead; only Jahara sat perched upon a stone column that had been shifted to the edge of the platform. She felt a certain responsibility to the West, to Jon and all who they left behind; he understood that. And there was Arya to consider in the East.

"The world does not forget; the bones of the dead call out for justice; and the ancient will listen." Kinvara spoke softly, glancing between them. "As do the others."

"The others?" Daenerys asked.

"The dead and those who guard the gates." The priestess whispered softly.

"White walkers and the wights." He murmured, thinking of the war for Winterfell. They had never truly known the reasons that the dead marched South, what motivated the ice men that drove them or what powers allowed them to raise the dead to fight for them.

There was a tie between blood magic and death he did not fully understand, and a distinction between their magic; that of the dragons. Still the images made him feel uneasy, and the mark on his chest itched as he thought about it later.


	39. Chapter 39

Jorah was at her side as they met with the magisters from Pentos, as was Kinvara and they listened to the pretty words and promises. There was a silk to their words, pretty and full of promise, Daenerys was already wondering at the secrets they kept when her husband stepped close; his words soft.

"When the Dothraki approached a city, the wealthy sent gifts and envoys to convince them to turn away. For wealth the horse lords often did; leaving the city to its ways. You have met men like these before, they believe they can find your price." Her husband heard the shadow in their words as well.

"In wealth, and flesh." She replied, speaking too quietly for their guests to hear, adding the detail he'd included the first time he told her that story. "I am a Khaleesi, but I am also a dragon."

And she needed no wealth, her city was littered with artifacts and their trade routes grew steadily; she was building her vision upon principle. Upon the vision that had begun when she was a woman, a widow in the Dothraki Sea; with little more than the slaves of her late husband's khalasar and a knight at her side. She'd claimed wealth, an army, and ships before learning the nation she was meant for did not lay in the West.

"Dragon Queen, you have a third option, it is not only the magisters who hear of your liberation in the East; the people of all classes do. And since the days of Mereen Red priests and priestesses have spoken of you, of what you have done for your people; they know the lord of light has sent you to rebuild our world." Kinvara promised, her gaze was clear and sincere, yet those promises were just a little too familiar.

Men, even men in Pentos had made her brother of similar promises of Westeros, tried to tell her such platitudes; the only difference was those men did not truly influence the people they spoke of. Only she was not sure the extent of Kinvara's influence, faith was powerful for those who believed but it had been a long time since the high priestess had gone to her temple; basing her ministry here on the temple platform.

"And why should they believe in me if I do not come for them?"

"Those who speak to them have seen the dragons of old; the true dragons. And we do not forget, the great age of the dragons before the wealth of Valyria was a dream, when dragon fire was a light to the world; a promise of power." Kinvara spoke with passion, and that distant look came into her eyes, and Daenerys knew she was speaking of a time she had seen. How many ancients were kept alive by the magic of those chokers?

It left her conflicted, she knew the magisters words could not be trusted entirely and even if she ordered them to release all men from service they could not be trusted to do so; they had long flaunted their status as a free city. It made an alliance far more difficult to consider, however, if she was in a difficult spot; she could not ignore their efforts to come here.

Daenerys was silent for a long time, Jorah had stepped back, knowing that she needed the time to think. She knew he could lead their army and take the city, but then every noble in the city would hate her rule; and the seeds of rebellion would be planted afresh. Yet the map Jorah continued to build had expanded to include the whole of the East, with the places that had aligned with them marked in red; and West in Stark grey for Jon was still closely bonded to the house that had raised him.

But she knew her enemies would find only a handful of friends in the West; their allies would lie far in the East where magic whispered dangerously. She could not afford to send the wealth of Pentos to Qarth, or into the Shadowlands beyond Asshai; they had fought the war with the dead. The next great war would be the magic of the dragons and the magic of death.

…

Daenerys had sat silently a long time after the envoy finished speaking and Jorah studied her, knowing there was much to be considered; but he was not sure she sensed the fear in these men. Their words were brave, but they knew just how much truth was behind their words; they knew their city had no intentions of changing its way. And Daenerys had the might to force them from the land and sky, it was this small group who had been selected to walk into the dragon's lair; facing her in the lands believed to be cursed until she made them her home.

Now the sick and suffering came to their temple to pray for healing, dragons soared through the skies and people lived safe and healthy in this smoking sea. And they were on the Bravosi shipping route, their own merchants sailed for ports from Westeros to the Summer Isles. A part of him believed the Valyria would once again conquer the whole of the East, that they had to if her dream of a free world was to be truly achieved.

"I will not take your gold, nor I do not accept your terms today." His wife finally spoke, her voice cold and eyes stern, but he saw the men reacting, bolstered by the insult of her words; he shifted a hand back in a subtle command to the silver dragon that lit upon the platform behind them. It had the effect he wanted before Daenerys continued; and she spoke with conviction. "Return home and put your houses in order before I come to Pentos. Should I find a man or child in chains or enslaved in any way, dragon fire will rain upon your city. If I find a city truly free, we will treat and agree upon terms."

With a nod she dismissed the men and the Unsullied stepped forward, leading them from the platform to a small boat; they would be returned to the galley in the harbor. But as soon as the boat departed Daenerys turned to him, he saw the conflict in her eyes; but she had handled that well. They knew that she would not take platitudes and empty promises, what they chose to do with that would be upon their own heads.

"They will not change, maybe those men will; but…"

"They have the chance, and they represent the wealthiest of the city; they are but a handful of its number." He interrupted, reassuring her as best he could; change came at a cost. "Perhaps there are ways to see what is happening there; it was the merchants who told us of Volantis."

"Find a few men you trust, have them go to the city and remain until we take flight." Daenerys decided, drawing Missandei to her side; the woman had stood to the side during the meeting.

Jorah fell back as the two women discussed the exchange for a moment, Missandei murmuring that sending men ahead would allow them to hear of the people as well; he smiled to himself. Her friend was just as much advisor as confidante, Missandei knew more of what they had faced than anyone else.

When they glanced back at him for names, he offered two of the Unsullied he knew would go, the women smiled, and Daenerys tucked an arm into her friend's. "At least Grey Worm will be home for a time then, you two have spent too much time apart."

"It was necessary, but it is good to have him home." Missandei agreed. "Kyri is thrilled, she…"

"She is not the only one, it is clear he missed you." Daenerys had a teasing glint in her eyes, and he was struck by the innocence of them for a moment.

Then quickly made his excuses to slip away, once he saw them into the house, there were certain conversations he did not want to be privy to; he didn't want to think about how much is wife might share. It was not often that they had a chance to step away from everything here, for him it was when he slipped away with Jahara into the flames to explore, when he was alone with his wife and daughters; for her sharing stories and secrets with Missandei.

And that was where Jorah headed, Valyria was a series of islands shrouded in smoke, keeping more than a few of its own secrets. Their men explored only to a certain point, they stopped where the land grew warm; but he was not bothered by that. His dragon loved it, dipping and swooping as though energized by the warmth.

He hiked, occasionally finding an artifact, and sometimes the bones of those who had once slaved in the mines long since collapsed. And he felt the mark upon his chest sing, not pain, not draining his strength; instead he was comforted somehow. But as he returned to the city, he found a trail, pausing a moment before following it.

He found Kinvara sitting by the river, looking into the mouth of an ancient mine, it was partially intact, stone charred and littered with fresh bones; Rhaegal had taken it for his lair. The Red Priestess was lost in thought and he nearly stood behind her before she noticed he was there.

"You feel their power out here because they have claimed you." She murmured without looking back at him. "I come here because to go so far is too much for me. But when I look upon a dragon's lair my faith is renewed. Do you know how many religions began here?"

"No, no I don't." He frowned, and after a moment of considering his options, sat next to her. Kinvara was a little wild, she had aligned with them for her own reasons. "I know the faceless men began in the mines."

"Yes, not so long ago they did, but before them men worshiped the dragons in all different ways. Some the great and wild beasts, others the magic and fire they possessed; but a few, a few realized their true power. These were the days before the Valyrian reign of terror, before the Long Night the Westerosi whisper of; this was before guardian and heart were separated. Do you know the name of that guardian? The dragon he bore to life?" As Kinvara spoke he ran his thumb over his scarred palm, another mark he'd grown used to, blood and magic went together; but to the dragons it was different.

"The first heart was called Jaida." He murmured; he knew only the pieces that another had felt important enough to record.

"The dragon was R'hllor, the first to ever take a rider; the first to lend his magic to man. For his life was bought with the blood of a guardian, his life saved by the guardian's spear at the request of the maiden Jaida." Kinvara whispered. He only nodded, the red god, the lord of light had been a red dragon; given the beliefs that were spouted time and time again it did not surprise him. "That day, in the moment when the blood of a living man joined with the magic of the dragons the world changed. Now the spirit of that dragon rests with the ancients, the magic of each dragon added to them."

Jorah was silent, and he listened as the woman told her story, perhaps for the first time. Speaking of the connection each had to the ancient and wild dragons, believing that the ancient creatures heated the world. Here, where the flames fractured the surface, they were closest to the ancients, their heat and their magic. And when the dragon lords, children of those bound to the dragons and those brave enough to get close enough to the creatures, began to turn on their guardians' men began to pray to R'hllor.

"We tried, we tried long before these volcanoes were mined, before the magic of death corrupted our temple. We tried to become guardians to the dragons, to rein in the cruelty of men who believed in fire; who believed themselves to be dragons. But the mark of man does not hold the power the dragon's does." The woman began to shift her robes and Jorah eased back, uneasy until she showed him a tattoo. It was a mark like his, but it was clearly ink. "A guardian gave a few of us the magic to live as they did, to keep the belief alive for they saw the truth; they saw you."

She fixed her robes and he watched her fingers glancing over the blood red choker at her neck; he suspected what had happened to the blood the guardians gave. Lifeblood was death, but the blood of a guardian was freely given, the power ran far deeper and Kinvara was proof that it could not be made by men.

"We have waited a long time for the dragons' heart to rise again, to see if a guardian would be forged." Kinvara said as he stood to go. "Men, women and children from Asshai to Pentos, and every city in between have lived and died waiting for the dragons to rise again; to rebuild this world. And now the dead cry for justice, they cry for rest; and will have none until the two of you answer."

Jorah nodded once more and then walked back to the city, a dragon shadowing him from above; considering the woman's words. He'd tried to figure out Kinvara a long time, she'd fed them bits and pieces; enough to keep her place; today she told him enough to understand. This was her home too; it had been for longer than any could possibly know.

Daenerys had the girls on the bed with her and sat chatting with her friend when he got home, she sent Missandei home after he arrived; he promised to help her prepare for bed later. Her eyes followed her friend from the room before she reached to him.

"She needs more." His wife whispered as she picked up the Visenya, glancing to him. "Maybe they can't have children, but they are meant for each other. Talk to Grey Worm, convince him he needs to marry her; she knows they are meant to last but…"

"I am not exactly in a position to say anything Daenerys." He winced, while he didn't use many titles, he knew Grey Worm viewed him as a superior and to a military man that mattered; Jorah did not want to meddle in personal choices. "Valyria is free, not all who live together are married here, in Naath there are no marriage customs."

"But they are not in Naath, it is but a memory to her; she has spent most of her life in places where marriage is a custom and it matters." Daenerys argued, rocking their daughter.

"Yes, but one of the main reasons it matters is not an issue for them." Jorah hinted, and though Grey Worm would never sire a child it had not stopped them from building a family; one Kyri had desperately needed. Yet he also knew his wife was not trying to meddle, she wanted to see her friend happy. "Let it be their choice."

Daenerys frowned, but as they traded infants, she lifted Sainna to her breast; he rubbed her cheek. She meant well, and she truly cared for those she knew and those she didn't; she always had. And he knew that was going to matter more and more as this came together; there were going to be many who did not want to see any sort of magic brought into the center of the world, who liked to deny how it was whispered around the world; but her vision would smooth that path.


	40. Chapter 40

Curled against her husband's side she felt safe, she felt peaceful even as the day they must fly for Pentos drew closer. Jorah had shared what Kinvara told him, and the books they'd found out in the Shadowlands confirmed some of it. It reassured her in a way, but it was also a challenge, Pentos, Tyros, Myr and any other hole slavers might try to hide in was only a piece of the puzzle.

His hand shifted against her back and Daenerys looked up to see he was awake, blue eyes on her; her own glinted with mischief. "The girls are still asleep."

His hand trailed down her back as she squirmed closer, easing over so she lay on top of him; eager for his arms around her. It was early, Jorah, she knew would not have stayed in bed much longer, now though he might be enticed to stay a time.

And his touch was familiar, but no less arousing, each knew what the other liked; that came from the bond they'd built. It had taken root long before it grew, but the roots went far deeper than even they had known. On her moan he pressed his mouth to her, then shifted to the side; his whisper above her pulse. "Hush."

And then he covered the giggle that she lost, prolonging their time as the girls slept a little longer. But with the morning light came their girls' fussing for milk, and their work; as she nursed the girls Jorah went down to get started. She intended to meet him at the temple platform later this morning.

As she nursed Sainna, Missandei tended her hair, quickly weaving the braids up for the day as they watched a hatchling flap its wings, launching for the short flight from the crib to the windowsill; they grew even faster than the girls. Muirrean gave a screech of delight, hopped along the ledge and then onto her shoulder; Sainna reached up to rub a tiny hand against the pale wing tip.

They watched the baby and the hatchling until Jorah stepped back into the room; his face grim. "Khaleesi, we've had a message from King's Landing."

"Why?" She shifted quickly, upsetting Muirrean and Sainna, Missandei leaned down and took the baby as she stood; the young hatchling seemed to understand her friend's boundaries and stayed on her shoulder.

"They are asking for help, and for supplies." Jorah passed her the scroll and she read the words for herself.

Daenerys was silent for a moment; it was a long message to be sent by raven and carried across the sea by messenger, but the words were written in Jon's own hand. Westeros was suffering, food shortages and severe storms were taking a toll but in the North another problem was rising on the cold winds; a problem they had thought put to rest.

"The White Walkers are coming again." She murmured.

"Not the Walkers, those that made them; and sent them." Jorah corrected, something hard in his eyes. "Kinvara is waiting downstairs, while she was not in Westeros during the first long night, when the remaining Children of the Forrest fought with man; she was alive."

Daenerys nodded, and rose, fixing her dress and picking up Visenya; Missandei followed them down to where Kinvara and Grey Worm waited in the living room. The Red priestess told them of the first time the White Walkers came, of the winter that decimated the Kingdoms of the West and killed thousands, the generation that saw the first snowfall died long before it melted.

"We will send supplies to them, but we will also go. The dragons have a better chance of killing them than an army of frozen and starving men." She decided, if Westeros was suffering as badly as Jon said it would be a suicide mission to march Southerners North to support a people already weakened from a fierce war earlier this winter.

"Your war is in the East." Kinvara whispered, a pleading tone to her voice. "The power they draw upon is death itself and its source is the magic of blood."

"He is my brother's son, a brother I never got to know; who never met his child. Jon is my kin, and I know what it is to be alone: I will go to him and then we will go East." She ordered, the East might be her home now, but Jon was blood.

"Then you must understand the creatures you deal with; their powers are that of death. They have always been death, no matter what a few chose; they bound death and life." Kinvara warned, her voice said. "But you must do more than send them back to rest beneath the ice; otherwise they will rise against man again. It is a battle that must be truly won."

For a long moment there was silence, and then it was Jorah who spoke. "The harbors are safe; I'll speak to our merchants and find out how soon we can get supplies across the Narrow Sea; where they can put in with the sea ice. We can discuss the tactical approach."

"We need to go, we do not know what they are facing in the North now, the dragons are more effective than any army; Drogon and Jahara know our commands." She murmured but saw that her husband's eyes were on their daughters and she knew what he was thinking; the fear was already twisting inside her at the idea. "Missandei, will you keep the girls? They'll need milk and…"

"We will get them a wet nurse; we will keep their routines and the dragons close." Missandei promised, her voice soothing even as she cradled the one she held closer.

She only nodded, what she was feeling was shadowed in her husband's eyes, she hated the idea that they both would be leaving the girls. But should anything ever happened to them she knew Missandei and Grey Worm would raise Sainna and Visenya like their own; cherished and protected in ways she had never known as a girl. Yet the thought made anger twist within her, she would not leave them easily.

…

Three days after the message from King's Landing arrived, they took flight for Westeros with four dragons, Jorah rode behind his wife. The first short leg of their journey was Volantis, and the first night where there was not a cradle by their bed or babes demanding attention or a meal. Daenerys was struggling, nuzzling into his chest, she did not sleep well that night and he winced as he helped her into the dress the following morning; her breasts swollen and sore with milk their daughters would not drink.

He did what he could to comfort her, Missandei and Niamh would spoil the girls, and helped her express the milk; though it was upsetting she was adamant that when they returned, she would nurse the girls once more.

Jahara stayed close to Drogon as they headed across the Narrow Sea, he knew she was offended that he did not travel with her; but it would be several days of flight to make this trip and they did not know what they would step into. To carry him would be added work for her, but Drogon would not even notice them upon his back; and he needed Jahara fresh for battle.

They planned to spend the second night on Dragonstone, from there King's Landing was a short flight which they would make the following morning; from there Jon would meet them. It would take more time, but a convoy of ships had mobilized with grain, wheat and corn heading for ports from Eastwatch by the Sea to Black Water bay.

Their Navy, in part due to the desperation of Kinvara's pleas, sailed for Qarth with instructions to block the harbor and wait for them. A small group of ships headed farther East with instructions to wait for their signal to drop the Dothraki in the garden of bones; promising that they would know the signal when they saw it. She intended to overturn that old saying that had once threatened Daenerys first little khalasar.

Mounted once more behind his wife they crossed the Narrow Sea, and circled above the seat of the Targaryen house, Rhaegal and Drogon had been here before and knew where to land but as they approached the field he recognized two figures waiting for them and shifted his hand for his sword; and always alert Jahara took place above Drogon's wing.

They had expected to find Dragonstone quiet, the smallfolk living on the coast but the holdfast itself empty; few liked to live on the island coast. He had not expected to see Tyrion Lannister again, and he would have been content to go the rest of his days without the Spider crossing his path; but they did not strike him as Jon's most logical envoys. Had they been sent, or had they come of their own accord?

With dragons planning and travel time was greatly reduced on their side, but it would have taken weeks for the message to reach them; and the spy master survived on whispers. Either way four dragons landed and the men standing at the head of the path visibly shrank a little; they didn't know that more remained in Valyria with their daughters. And he'd noticed Drogon's interest in the two young females of late as well; best they'd determined the duller scales with deep undertones were the mark of male dragons; but it was only a guess.

"We could fly on to King's Landing?" He called over her shoulder, feeling that she had tensed in front of him as well.

"No." And she urged Drogon to dip, coasting towards the landing field overlooking the sea; and smoothly landed.

Jorah climbed down ahead of his wife and frowned as he stepped into knee deep snow; the crust broken by the dragons' landing around them. He reached back to help Daenerys down, she'd had armor made, but she was still adjusting to wearing it; and climbing through the snow in it would be difficult for her. The men had approached a little but stopped where the snow solidified, they closed the distance and he lifted Daenerys to help her out of the loose snow.

Her breastplate bore the same emblem as his, the soaring dragon of her house above the bear of his, forged by dragon flame; though she and Missandei had added a few more embellishments. A deep blue tone had been woven with the ring mail beneath her plates and dragons added to her shoulders, she looked the warrior she was; but her dragon was her preferred weapon.

And as Jahara coasted on the breeze above them, Jorah was careful to stay close to her, he was not sure what they knew; but if they did not know that the silver dragon responded to him, they didn't need to yet. Tyrion's eyes were on them, Varys watched but his expression was carefully masked; Jorah was trying to work out why her two previous advisors were waiting for them.

"Your grace, King Jon sends his regards and regrets…" Tyrion began.

"Last I had heard you had retired from service to Casterly Rock." Daenerys cut him off coolly, they knew Jon had elected to continue using the name he had grown up with though his parentage had been made well known. "You did not leave with your brother and sister?"

"No, I did not leave with them or support them; however, their actions made my position on the King's counsel difficult." Tyrion's shoulders slumped a little as he spoke.

"And you are aware that I intend to find Cersei and make her pay for what she's done in Bravos and with the Warlocks of Qarth." And she held his gaze steadily, Jorah's eyes roamed to the man standing behind Tyrion; he was the member of Jon's counsel and had been silent for some time.

"I understand, you are not alone. But I cannot continue to apologize for the actions of family members who once wanted to kill me!" The indignation came into his voice, but Jorah caught his wife's glance; they both knew the man was adept in politics and lying.

"Your grace, I understand your concerns and we are deeply grateful that you have come." Varys finally spoke, stepping forward as the attention shifted from Tyrion. "Jon has gone North, to support the defense of the wall and be with his family in this trying time."

They were silent for a long moment before Varys continued, explaining that a fever was spreading across the nation, striking down many already weakened from the hard winter. And the Starks were not spared, Sansa had fallen ill and Jon who had been at the wall had gone south to Winterfell. They moved the meeting to the warmth of the holdfast and learned more about the problems that were arising in the North; it was Bran who had recommended sending for them.

Claiming the master chamber, he slid the pack from his shoulders and lay it on the bench, today's flight had been longer, but it sounded like tomorrows would be even longer; they would have to leave at dawn to make Winterfell. The days were short and grey, but he hoped for clear weather; a winter storm would make it much more difficult.

"I want to go into the village; the winter town is near the sea gate." Daenerys murmured, pacing the length of the room.

"Khaleesi is that a good idea? Fevers can be nasty and…"

"And you are with me." She cut him off, reaching for his hand, her fingers rubbing over the scar. That was another detail they had not shared openly, when they did not know exactly what they were going to face here.

Daenerys got her way and they did roam down to the village, aware that they were being watched from the walls. The village was struggling and as people watched them from their homes Jorah could see the people were struggling here and as they were near the water, he saw men working to break the ice around the fishing boats. Down here it was unusual for the snow and ice to be so heavy, however this was a hard winter; it meant it would be far worse deep in the North.

When they returned to the holdfast Jorah gently helped her loosen the straps on her breastplate and then the shoulder plates before helping her from the mail and coat beneath it; smiling as she grumbled about it. She was safer for wearing it, however uncomfortable; it was a little fitted to be worn over the thick winter coat they had left the West with after the battle for Winterfell.

"We need to fly for the wall, if that is where the threat is." Daenerys murmured, water had been delivered for a large tub as Jorah stripped off his own armor and coat.

"We will head North; we should get more information about what they are facing." Jorah commented.

"Do you believe Tyrion?" She asked cautiously and Jorah only shook his head; they both knew better.

She winced as she loosened the straps of her dress and after he ensured they were alone he helped her strip and express the milk; knowing she was sore and missing their girls. She slid into the water and sighed, Jorah knelt next to her, rubbing her back as he pressed a kiss to her brow; it was the first of a long series of flights.

"That mark is bothering you again." His wife observed, her hand wet and warm from the water covered the dragon's mark upon his chest. "There is magic in Westeros whether they want to acknowledge it or not."

He smiled to himself, when they had first departed from the North on this journey, they had not understood their purpose or their magic; the ways that fire and water worked together to fight and to heal. They knew far more of the world and the past than the history books said, and he suspected that they would serve as the memory of these times; much as the guardians of old had left a way for Kinvara to survive. Only she had told them how it had been done.


	41. Chapter 41

Her husband's hand itching towards his breastplate was telling, it was far worse up here, but she knew better than to question him about it as they left the dragons and strode towards the lift. It meant they were closer to the magic of Westeros, and that she needed to be cautious of any she approached; she would never forget the day they learned that he could sense the magic of others.

She had not forgot the moment, but it had been a long time since she had thought of Nahyan; he'd wanted to continue the traditions of his people. Daenerys believed the child was innocent in a way, too young to understand the cost of the magic he longed to practice; and used to the horrific ritualistic sacrifices. They'd seen the proof that thousands had practiced that magic for generations; but that place had been coming back in her dreams even though they had released the spirits of those left there.

On the wall Tormund, the tall red-haired wildling greeted them before leading them to Jon who was dealing with a new issue. Varys had informed them of Jon's whereabouts before they flew this morning, they were not sure if the news was shared with Tyrion or not; she had some questions for Jon about that.

The dragons circling above the wall were an indicator of their arrival, and when Jon saw them, he strode forward. Daenerys shot her husband a quick glance as Jon extended his hand, it was Jorah who took the hand first, giving him the first chance to gauge any interactions she was to have; and she was not sure exactly what Jon was dealing with. She noticed Jon's frown as he felt the deep scar on Jorah's hand, the two hadn't known each other very well before they left; but they had some history.

"I am grateful to you both for coming." She took her nephew's hand as Jorah eased back; the man took it eagerly. "I don't know exactly how to explain what we are dealing with, other than to show you."

Daenerys nodded, she could see the weight of his title clearly, he wore his duty to the realm heavily. Perhaps because of the threats shifting south, or the illness that had touched upon the people who had raised him as family. He led them along the icy walkway, and onto a swing bridge that had been strung across the chasm where the Night King had breached the wall on his march.

Her husband reached to steady her as she clung to the thick roped railing, pulling herself forward to follow Jon; Jahara and Rhaellys soared beneath the bridge. She felt far more secure upon dragon back than on this bridge, and Jon shouted over the wind that they'd begun work on the base but were struggling to rebuild the wall until they hit a problem.

As they made it off the bridge Daenerys gazed over the wall, trying to comprehend the sight she could now see. In the distance she could see small strange camps and possibly fires; but that was not what was daunting. It was looking at the wall itself that was intimidating, all through it she could see glittering lines in the ice; not visible from the southern side.

"They get worse every day, when we send crews down to measure them, they attack with ice and fire; and when men fall we have wights to deal with." Jon told them. "Best we can tell they're children of the forest, and white walkers; young ones."

"Craster's sons." A voice added from behind them, turning to find Samwell Tarly had come up behind them. "We've only had a couple glimpses of them; but they're the same. At least they don't have an army to support them."

The words were optimistic, but she only glanced at her husband; they both knew it wasn't so simple. While she was sure these men had heard of what happened in Bravos, they had seen it; they knew the stories were true. And they came knowing just how powerful the magic they faced was.

"Do you know how deep the cracks are?" Jorah asked, eyeing the fault lines that scarred the wall as far as the eye could see.

"We've varied reports, men at East Watch say nearly eight feet deep in spots, others near the mountains are as shallow as two. We're at the weakest point but our last two teams have had to turn back. They seem to know when we are going to try; and we've been attacked by some strange things." Jon explained before they headed back across.

By the time they took the lift down snow was falling thickly again and they eagerly took shelter in the keep. After a quick meal she nudged her husband and they made their excuses to retire for the night.

"If you go with the crew tomorrow and take Jahara, I'll fly overhead; see if you can get a look at what is happening." Daenerys suggested in the privacy of their room, grateful when he reached for the straps at her shoulders. He made it look easy, deftly adjusting the straps and pulling at the right piece until she was free of the metal and mail; slipping from her coat as he turned to his own armor.

…

He woke, relieved that he had finally fallen asleep, to find his wife's palm resting against the dragon's mark; Jorah hoped he had not disturbed her. At first, he had thought his wife was dreaming again, but she had slept soundly, so whether it was a warning of what they would find, or a call to war he was not sure. Either way he shifted her carefully so he could get up, his first thought had been to check the cradle; but a second later reality hit.

The last time they had been in the West it had been to fight a war; the results of that war had changed everything; it had been his own pyre that revealed it. And while he never forgot that, it was easier to push back when they were far from this land; in the place they had made into their home.

But they had ties here as well, and as the morning wore on Jorah joined the group walking through the tunnel in the wall. The men he was with were uneasy, but one of the things that set them on edge was a reassurance to him; Jahara flew low, circling above them; glittering against the ice and snow. Higher three more dragons soared above, the greatest of them venturing further afield; his wife no doubt scouting the area.

Jorah turned his attention to the great wall towering to the clouds, standing here it was hard to believe it could be vulnerable and yet the cracks glittered in the ice, deep and jagged things like fault lines along which it would shatter if struck. As a few men took up a defensive position around them Jorah joined Jon in climbing up to examine them.

The mark on his chest contracted painfully as he lay his hand on one, but where his fingers rested the shimmering color faded; quickly he withdrew his hand. The men hurriedly began to take measurements, trying to crawl into the deepest of them; but by their faces Jorah already the result. But a dragon's screech was their only warning of an incoming attack.

Yet Jorah glanced back as the first man died, an ice spear lodging through his neck, all up the wall the fracture lines pulsed as blood poured into the snow. There had long been rumors of magic being built within the wall, the magic of the Children of the Forest; but what if there was more?

He recognized some of the beings that charged them, trying to pin them against the wall; riding on great ice spiders which snapped fangs like daggers trying to catch men. But those that rode upon the spiders were Children of the Forest and they hurled balls of fire at them. Jahara dipped and held herself in front of them, answering fire with fire as Drogon descended from the rear.

The dragons managed to drive back the enemy's forces for them to retreat, but as they met with the various leaders in the aftermath Jorah was considering something else. Something was holding that wall up, the foundations of it steeped in magic that the Children could not break now; what if there was another magic woven in.

He and Daenerys knew that the guardians had been here in the age of heroes, that the long night had been a greater thing, perhaps they had hidden their nature, but they were guardians without a mission. And then there were the ancient stories every northern child was told of ice dragons, of battling the white walkers in the long night. The latter had been proven true within his lifetime, but the first was yet to be seen.

Jorah eyed the map that was stretched out before them, his eyes went to the Fist of the First Men, it featured in many stories and yet they had never known why it was there that men chose to gather. And if it had been such a strong hold, why had the wall been built so much farther south?

"We need to face them now, while the wall stands and hit them with everything we have. Queen Daenerys has helped us once before and we threw back a far larger army." Jon argued, moving the pieces to plan where their troops should form up.

The men did not look eager, but Jorah saw the resolution on their faces; they knew they had to face this. Jorah eyed the man who stood across the table from him, who was trying to watch him surreptitiously; he and Sam Tarly had a history. The man had found a way to help him when no one else would try, and then there was the matter of the pyre; perhaps Jorah could ask for his help once more.

As the meeting broke up, he circled around to catch him; if there was truth to the old stories, he knew who would have read the history books. "Do you have a moment?"

"Um, of course. What did you need?" The young man turned to him quickly and Jorah followed him back to the small library in the castle.

He looked at home surrounded by scrolls and books, the histories of Westeros and the Night's Watch. "What do you know about the Fist of the First Men?"

"Oh, that's where I first found the dragon glass and a war horn, we were on a ranging, it was when Jon was captured by the wildlings." The man broke off and stopped shuffling scrolls to look at him. "It was the last ranging your father led."

Jorah only nodded, wondering if his father had ever wondered about their history; he wondered if there had been any old stories lost to time. But he knew they had been here, the departure of the guardians had been one of the first whispers of the doom; thousands of years before the Targaryens fled and Valyria fell. When the bond between guardian and heart was first broken and their magic became polluted with blood. The guardian's magic had been forgotten throughout the centuries, even by their own descendants in a way that the dragons never had. But had they been completely silent?

"And during the long night?" The first ones had known the power of their blood, and they had been here when the white walkers came; he wasn't so sure they would have stood by.

"It was where the survivors gathered to fight the white walkers, they must have left the cache on the Fist for the future; in case they ever came again." He was shuffling the books now and Jorah watched quietly. "But more recently I found this."

He shifted so the old scroll could be spread out over the worktable, it was a map of the wall and its defenses below the schematic was a list of names. He recognized many of the houses, and some family names had been passed down; there was second list, but it was far shorter.

"These are the Northerners who helped, and I think these are the others, free folk, giants and the Children of the Forest who stood with them; but this list cannot represent the whole of people. Not with so much land beyond the last strong hold. So why claim the Fist unless there was some significance to it; or something near it." Sam pointed eagerly to the land mass several leagues beyond the wall.

"The Children of the Forest were as divided as we were." Jorah murmured, at that time Westeros had been divided into many kingdoms; they had not been united until Targaryen conquest. "And some are still here."

"Yes, but that's just it. The survivors who fought with man helped build the wall; it is their magic being attacked now." Sam explained, gesturing to a series of small marks along the wall. "These are the points where the cracks began, but now they have interconnected. If the magic belongs to the Children of the Forest, it is only a matter of time until they find a way to break through it."

"Maybe not." Jorah murmured, if it was a matter of their own magic, he suspected they would have broken through before the message ever reached them in Valyria. "Did the fissures start near where the wall was breached?"

Sam nodded and Jorah eyed the marks, trying to find any clues as to what they meant. It was this edge that they were attacking with the most force and yet it was holding. Jon wanted to move out and fight them while they were strongest; but perhaps it was not what they needed.


	42. Chapter 42

Daenerys gently ran her fingers along the mark as he told her what had happened when he touched the fissure. As he mentioned the map she shifted uneasily, the guardian's magic may survive here, but it had been without the reinforcement of the dragon heart in the days it was whispered; it had been halved for centuries. The magic placed by guardians who had turned from their heart.

The dragons might add strength to their fight, but would her magic help against that of men who believed her kind had turned on them? Still they were here to support Jon's plan and he planned to march the whole of his army through the breech and the tunnels to gain as much ground as they could and hold it. She knew Jorah was not convinced that it was the best tactical approach; but these men were desperate and looking for something they could do to protect their homes.

Her husband shifted, trying to shift her hand away and close his shirt as she traced the lines marked into his chest. She was reassured that Jahara would be with him, even if she would be above on Drogon's back; Jon was hoping Rhaegal would recognize him.

Daenerys only nestled tighter into his arms, thinking of their daughters at home; wanting to be with them again. Suddenly there was a sharp rap on the door, it had Jorah stirring and as she pulled furs to her chest, he crossed to open the door; and they heard the calls in the hall.

"We need to go." Jorah turned back and took her mail from the hook.

Daenerys rolled from the bed and dressed hurriedly as Jorah did the same and they joined the Northerners hurrying to the battle lines. Her husband dipped to kiss her cheek before he went to find the men heading to the front line; and she turned to the Southern yard where the dragons rested. She saw glints of silver in the torchlight and knew Jahara was already above.

Drogon waited for her on the field and stretched his wing so she could mount, she watched as Jon approached Rhaegal. The dragon snorted in warning and Jon faltered, then reached out to lay a hand on his snout and waited for the dragon to extend his wing.

Dragons were smart and Rhaegal remembered, though Jon was a little out of practice, lurching to either side as the dragon took flight. They soared, flying straight up the wall until they cleared it, able to see what they faced on the other side.

The fracture lines pulsed, casting an eerie light over the men pouring out to take formation below, but she saw the men who were on the wall trying to lean against the battlements and realized the wall itself was shaking. Drogon soared on and as the men below began to move forward and Daenerys searched for their opponent.

She could see their formations below, and the silver dragon that soared low, undoubtedly near Jorah; but she worried for her husband. The wind whipped around her and Daenerys leaned into Drogon's back, urging him to dive, they flew ahead of the men, but she couldn't see anyone, or thing moving in the frozen lands ahead.

Rhaegal pushed ahead and Daenerys glanced back to the men pushing forward below, they were trying to gain as much ground as they could lest they become pinned against the wall in an attack. The younger dragons stayed with the army, but suddenly she saw a faint light in the snow below.

It grew rapidly, racing back towards the army, towards the wall and suddenly fissures appeared in the snow below and she heard the shouts of men over the roar of the wind. Many tried to turn back, but as she dipped down, she saw the ice was cracking rapidly beneath their feet; and those who fell into them disappeared. The army was forced forward and as she searched for those who had to be behind the surge in power, she saw Jon urging Rhaegal to land; no doubt to pull people to safety. But the ground was not sturdy enough and the dragon arched his back and pushed off; sending her nephew tumbling to an island of ice.

…

He saw the dragon surge up, and the man fall, all around him men ran, forced forward to avoid the pits opening up behind them and yet somehow, he could see the wall still standing. Hundreds of years of ice caved in upon itself as there was no land below, shimmering a vibrant blue, and the mark on his chest beat a painful pulse.

"Move, keep moving." He shouted, even as he turned back for Jon and no sooner had he begun to scan the skies than he heard the beat of her wings.

He'd know the sound anywhere now; she carried the sling, but he didn't reach for it; her talons closed firmly around his shoulder plate as they went back for those stuck on the ice. While the lands beyond the wall crumbled, destroyed by the magic thrown upon them that wall stood, cutting its daunting path across the landscape.

Men stared as Jahara lifted him clear of the surge still flowing into the Lands of Always Winter, he headed back, for Jon and the others who had managed to stop on the ice and become trapped. They took shelter on a ridge, Drogon, Rhaegal and Rhaellys circling above as he stood with Jon, Tormund and several Northern Lords; they had very few options.

Geared for battle and with no option of retreat the men were discussing sending scouts to see how far the fractures went, if they could circle around them somehow, or if there were any ranging stations from the Night's Watch out here; if they could make it to the Fist of the First Men. Jorah was silent, their enemy was toying with them and every man they lost was one that the other side could claim; that was a war he did not want to fight a second time.

The last war of magic had been won when those responsible were forced to break their incantations and sacrifices; his gaze landed on a man who knew this land better than any of them ever would. And sidling over to him he eyed the wildling. If the wildlings were not there the rangers would not have been there either; that was where their enemy would be. "Where did no free folk live? What lands did you avoid?"

"The mountains in West; the forests. Many died in those cliffs." He nodded to a landscape that revealed nothing; the mountains were too far in the distance and Jorah held his gaze. "The Fist, men told stories of strange things happening there and the rangers liked to use it to hunt us."

There was a little venom in those last words and Jorah knew the past was not forgotten; his father had been well known North of the wall. And there was no explaining that he had been an honorable man, a good man trying to keep an oath. Jorah only nodded; the Fist had been important before; but they really didn't know why.

"We should go to the Fist of the First Men; the Nights Watch may have left more supplies there; it is a march we can make; from there at least we will have a line of sight." Jon spoke with authority, glancing up to the dragons circling above. "And maybe we have a way of being supplied."

He nodded on that; it would be impossible to ferry the army back on the dragons' backs even if they could land; they were not likely to tolerate such a thing. But both Drogon and Jahara were used to carrying loads; supplies could be moved from the wall and maybe their injured could be moved back.

As men formed up to march, he was surprised when Tormund fell in beside him. "You were dead, should've been ash in the wind long ago."

"I'm not." He threw back.

"We've noticed. But you are from the South, call it whatever you want it will always be South of here; and Southerners like to kneel. They like to believe man is powerful, and that every enemy is like us; that they can be beat in a battle. And the dead did not teach them. But you; you and her; you've seen other things, haven't you?" Tormund's gaze might be fierce, but he sensed an understanding in it; perhaps they had seen different things. But they understood the source. "I was on the wall when it crumbled the first time, and I have been on it since the day we first found the damn cracks. Do you know the only difference I see?"

And he did, the realization nearly brought him to a halt.

"Dragons." Tormund said with conviction. "Last time they had one, this time…"

The man kept talking but he tuned it out, turning the notion over in his head a few times; trying to sort it out. Tormund was right, it was an idea he had already been tossing around with Daenerys; but there was more to it. Even the fissures themselves were indicators, certainly this was not the first time the enemy had tried this. Had Viserion's attack changed something in the wall years ago; or had it been something else. A piece of the puzzle that none had before, for none knew that the guardians were here; or that a dragon could bond to a guardian.

He pulled away from Tormund, easing to the side of the column where Jahara could easily get down to him; even here there was activity beneath the ice though it did not crack. He thought of the East, the ruined temple they had once stood in and the dragons' bones that had remained there for so many centuries; held over from a time when there were hundreds of dragons in the sky. There had been power in that place centuries after the people who lived there were gone, after their dragons had died; and man had perverted it for their own use.

The men marched on, struggling in hope of safety at the Fist, as the dragons soared above them keeping watch for an ambush. Jorah eyed their troops, the Northerners and the free folk with them would survive this march but many of the forces Jon had gathered would not. It was one thing to be staying on the wall, in the castles but in ill fitted winter furs they would not last on a long march into the North, cut off from retreat.

…

She watched from above, wishing she could help the men below, Jahara stayed low and told her exactly where Jorah was but the faint fracture lines still followed them and as time passed the march slowed. The cavalry struggled in the snow and the infantry spread over a huge terrain; more straggled behind. Ranging out ahead now she sighted their goal in the distance; she wasn't sure they would make it tonight or even tomorrow.

She took comfort in knowing her husband had been raised in the North, he knew the cold and the risks; he stayed near the front of the march. Suddenly she saw something very concerning on the hill they were approaching; a heart tree stood at the top and around a circle of small creatures.

She banked hard, they stood around the tree and did not seem to notice the dragons above immediately. And by the time they did she had turned back, and the fireballs they hurled at her glanced off Drogon's scales; she had no fear of fire.

As she returned to the march, she saw that the fireballs hard already tipped them off to the threat ahead and they had held up to collect their forces again. The dragons assembled and stayed high, fire was no threat to them, but the creatures they had encountered here had other weapons; weapons she had already lost one child too.

At the head of the column she saw her nephew out ahead and tried to call to him; to warn him to wait. Suddenly the Children of the Forest were directly ahead of them and Jon froze, as though debating whether to turn back; but all around him the ice cracked.

It was cracking back towards the troops and now they truly had nowhere to go. The Children of the Forest advanced and she dipped, murmuring her command to the dragons. "Dracarys."

But with that frozen white walker had in the battle of Winterfell, they withstood the flames and kept moving forward. With green skin wrapped in leaves and vines they carried few weapons other than the balls that burst into flame in their hands; Jon had no where to go and the dragons did not drive them back.

Jon drew his sword and braced but fire balls were chipping away at his foothold; suddenly Jahara dropped Jorah next to him. The dragon surged forward and, as if realizing her flames would not win; she spread her wings and slammed into the children to send the sprawling.

But there was a distant rumble and Daenerys turned to see and army of ice creatures and wights approaching; it was a force they could not hold off. The men on the ground had heard it and were looking around uneasily, their commander stranded ahead of them. But as she circled back, hoping that they were not to be surrounded.

Only she found the cracks extending to the wall; and below it. If the ground beneath it gave way, would the wall stand? The skeleton crews on the wall looked up hopefully at Drogon; but she could not stay. And as she returned to the front line, she felt fear well in her heart; Jorah held Jon's sword.

She let out a choked cry as her husband drew the long blade through his hand, even from a distance she his grimace in pain as blood stained the snow. It was his choice, and while she knew it hurt him it would not do lasting harm. He was as much the blood of old Valyria as she was, his magic was that of the dragons; he was a protector and warrior. And she saw his lips moving, though she could not hear him she knew the words he would be saying; the words she had heard him say a thousand times before; never as more than a whisper.

She remembered the first time he'd said them uncertainly in that ruined stronghold. _Forebearer. Defender. Champion. Warrior._ He was the guardian and the dragons' sacrifice, as much as she their heart, and it surged within her, the need to join her magic to his; it belonged with his.

He stabbed the sword into the snow and ice, burying it to the hilt with Jon's help; as Jorah's hand rose to call for Jahara. And then he was shouting for her as the silver dragon lifted the two men clear and the army of ice mounted the hill, urged on by the Children of the Forrest; Daenerys whispered another command to her dragons. "Dracarys."

Three streams of flame were drawn in, as though her husband's blood and the sword that had once belonged to his house were a lightening rod; driving the flames and the magic of the dragons deep into the ice and snow. The cracks that had formed and stretched for miles began to pulse red, and the snow ahead of them, that the army of ice walked over and the Children of the Forest stood upon began to pulse red; as though the dragon's magic followed the path of magic not called into use yet.

The cracks closed in all directions, and ice shattered; white walkers, wights and their spiders. The Children of the Forest turned and disappeared towards the weir wood tree. Daenerys let Drogon land and climbed from his back, heading for where the silver dragon had lit on the ice.

"Jorah! Are you alright?" She pushed through men who had circled up, giving the dragon some space.

"It is fine Daenerys." Her husband reached for her even as he winced, Sam was binding his hand.

She glared at him, he was not very good at lying to her and she moved to look at his hand, it was mostly covered but she got a better look at him. He was pale and fighting to keep himself upright, Daenerys pulled at his furs and then slid off her mitt, she easily found the dragon's mark on his chest; it pulsed with heat that made her own skin feel cool. But her touch seemed to offer him some relief.

"We need to get back to the wall." Jorah said; his tone warned that none should argue, and she nodded. "Half these men won't last the night out here."

"He's right." Tormund added, the large redhaired wildling watched from the side; eyeing the dragons that had landed and eased closer; instinctively moving towards her and Jorah. "The wind is turning; we're in for a storm. We should take that fucking sword. Put his damn blood on it and bury it in the wall."

Daenerys started to protest but saw her husband nodding and held her tongue, he'd not cut himself again today. She didn't know how much of that was ancient spells and how much he would yet feel as it drew upon his own magic.


	43. Chapter 43

They arrived at the wall in darkness, the grey day had faded hours before they could pass through the gates, but other than that first attack they had lost few men; far fewer than it could have been. Their greatest surprise had been as they approached the wall, not only had the deep cracks been sealed as though they'd never existed; the wall stood whole. Those who had remained told them that as the cracks closed the whole of the wall had pulsed red as though flame kindled beneath it and ice had spanned the gap.

Tormund carried the sword that had once been passed to him, the one that he had left behind when he fled into exile and his father had given to is protégé. With the wilding, Jon and a few advisers they went to finish it; there must be a guardian's spells woven into that blade and woven into the wall as well. Magic only a guardian could call upon, he wondered if at one time some had known the true magic that held up the towering ice wall.

He sensed his wife's irritation as they rode the lift to the top, the dragons soared with them; he suspected their magic would be needed once more. They had tried to explain the dynamics of their own magic, that though it required blood the fact it was his choice and gift mattered; theirs was a different sort than that which required spells and death.

Jorah pulled away the bandages that wrapped his hand, his blood still visible on the blade they wrapped the stained bandages about it and then he stood to the side as Tormund chipped a hole and then two men took turns pounding the sword down into the wall and then water was poured over it.

His father had spent the last of his life proudly defending this wall, defending the home of millions and lost his life beyond it. The sword Jeor had worn from his youth until the day he took the black would forever honor the oath the man had taken; he might have shamed his father in life, but their blood would guard the realms of men.

The wall trembled a moment as the ice froze, and they all stood still, then headed down to a small hall where a hot fire burned, and cups of ale were passed around as the events of the day were discussed. His wife kept his damaged hand tucked in one of hers, having wiggled her chair over until Tormund had stepped behind it and shoved her in the chair up against his.

The wounds were red and angry, one intersected the scar she had made the first time they realized the power of guardian's blood, Ser Davos told them of the perversion of the power of blood; something the Red Woman had perverted terribly. As the conversation jumped around the room Jorah took a sip of the ale, it reminded him of his childhood home more than anything right now; he was still trying to piece together the facts for himself. But he was not alone in that.

"I still can't understand it, dragons in the North." Sam Tarly murmured; the group was relatively small, but most were nodding. "And Bear Island, maybe that shouldn't be a surprise given the histories but..."

"What histories?" Jorah questioned.

"The Northern accounts, at the library in Winterfell, here and even at the citadel. I've found records of the men each house sent to battle. House Mormont has always been small; but the records of what their warriors did. And the saying is true, you know; about how long they stood with house Stark. They made an alliance early on because every battle I've found record of they fought with the Starks."

He nodded, wondering if there wasn't more to that as well. "I grew up on our words and the old saying. Any man of Bear island is worth ten mainlanders. But there was more too that."

"Your cousin liked that one, she was proud of House Mormont's warriors; she was one herself. It makes sense that sword passed down through your house." Jon added and Jorah only frowned.

"Not exactly, it was something I had never considered before now. See we've never been a large house, nor a wealthy one and yet Longclaw has been passed from father to son for generations. I've never heard a story of how we came to have a Valyrian sword; and I know many more powerful houses that never acquired one." Jorah knew the history of their house and what he said was true.

"I grew up on the same stories you did, I didn't learn another way until after the battle for Winterfell. I assumed we had the blood of the First Men, and given we look no different I would assume that story was given root. But my ancestors came from Valyria, long before the conquest or the doom; it is a complicated story. But I don't think even the Children of the Forrest knew what we were; not until Viserion broke through the wall." He sighed and with dragons returned to the world the old magic that had stood a thousand years had begun to falter and the Children of the Forest learned how to break through the powerful magic that kept them in the Lands of Always Winter.

Daenerys lay her hand on his and took up the story. "Dragons are fire made flesh but not all riders possess the dragons magic. Some are simply accepted by the dragons, but others have a different sort of magic; a magic as entwined with that of the dragons as fire. They posses the gentler sort of the dragons' magic, what a heart sees in the flames and in their dreams a guardian sees in the waters, with blood they give life to fire; with blood they heal. They bind the dragon heart to humanity, voices of reason and calm to the fire that lives within the dragons' heart; for there is no other way for a man to walk so close to fire. My own ancestors, your past kings are proof of that."

"The guardians and the hearts were divided by blood magic in the centuries before the doom. It is the guardians who sense the power of other magic, it is used to guard the heart from those who would harness the dragon's magic for death. But while I dream of the future and see the warnings in my nightmares Jorah looks into the waters to see the past; in the waters of the guardian his blood can heal. Our magic combined, the healing of the guardian and the fire of the dragon is the most powerful magic we know of; but neither of us possess it independently. Neither of us are at full strength without the other, he calms my temper, and my fire adds strength to his blood." His wife squeezed his hand, and he felt his own chest tighten at the look she gave him; they had travelled a long road together from exile and betrayal, to death and into this new journey.

"Has he always been a guardian?" It was Sam who asked the question quietly.

"My ancestors fled Valyria centuries before the doom when the Valyrians first began to experiment with blood magic and began killing their guardians. I believe they settled here around the time of the first men and were just though to be a different tribe of some sort. Some went further East, with the dragon hearts who fled as well; but the Valyrians found them some time before the doom." Jorah answered, trying to explain all that they had learned; it had been a long road to understanding why the flames had raised him in that pyre.

"They fought to the death rather than add their magic to that of death. The guardians would have seen that, and if they had already used their magic to build the wall, may have stopped telling their children of their ancestry. As far as we can tell the story died out and the Valyrians never learned where the guardians went; otherwise I can't imagine the guardians would have stood by as my ancestors invaded Westeros." His wife explained quietly.

"Why return to Valyria if so much evil stemmed from that place?" Sam asked, Jorah realized he was trying to record their words; working by candlelight as the rest of them relaxed with a drink.

"In the heat of the Flames dragons thrive, and our magic with them. We will build Valyria into the kingdom it should have been. Dragons will protect those who choose to live in our world and destroy any who choose death; enslaving their fellow man or walking over the weak. Already the East has known our strength and changed for it, slavers cower in the shadows and cities seek alliances that are not made for personal gain." Daenerys answered, he heard the conviction in her voice and smiled to himself, she would see this world shaped a new in ways no ruler had ever considered.

Conversation shifted to the ills of the world, a discussion primarily between Sam and his wife, though Tormund interjected drunkenly a few times about what was civilized and what was not. Jorah was content to listen quietly, the threat to Westeros overthrown, he knew they would turn East. For if Qarth was not dealt with the blood sacrificed to death would continue to call to their magic for vengeance and the power of it would be captured for evil; yielding strength for dark magic to rise. And he knew that battle would be trying for the warlocks would certainly pit their sorcery against the dragon's magic.

But once it was won, they could return to Valyria to their daughters, to the stone house that had become their home. He'd claimed Bear Island as his home years after he was exiled and longed for it, but while the memories there would always be important to him it was no longer where he longed to be; home was the island kingdom his wife was building, where his daughters would grow up.

"You've healers magic then?" Jon leaned over to him, jerking from his thoughts.

"Yes." He replied shortly, he didn't want to be asked to explain it for he didn't know how to.

"Can you cure a fever?" The man's gaze was steady. "I don't know what has happened to Arya, or if we will ever see her again but Sansa. She took ill with the fever that is spreading everywhere, the maesters are able to help very few..."

"I can try." Jorah said quietly, they did not know what had happened to Arya either. "We will be returning to Valyria tomorrow. We will land at Winterfell."

Daenerys had not said anything of their intention to fly on to Qarth and so he did not add that information to the mix; their concerns were no longer that of Westeros. In truth a part of him was relieved to have offered something to Westeros, something to the memory of his family; but he would be glad to finish this and go home.


	44. Chapter 44

It was a short flight to Winterfell in the morning and though they had come to help he sensed his wife's unease as they entered the Lady of Winterfell's bedchamber. The room was sickly warm, and the young woman lay sweaty and weak beneath a thick layer of furs.

Jon had sent a raven ahead of them, but Bran had been waiting in the courtyard; this time he had only a quiet nod for them. He took it as a sign they were on the right track as the young man simply told someone to show them to Sansa's chamber.

Daenerys stayed near the door as he crossed to bank the fire, he didn't know much of the healer's arts, but he'd seen fever sweep through a holdfast; if the fever hadn't broken yet heat would not do it. Before the maester could protest he turned to the basin and quietly drew his own blade; closing his scarred palm around it.

The hand looked a mess, but it didn't bother him too much, and it scarred up again too quickly for him to claim it hurt him. He dipped his hand in the water and then glanced to his wife, Daenerys looked back at him a long moment before striding forward; but it did not seem appropriate for him to wash her.

She might not like Sansa Stark all that well, but here her gentle heart shone through as she began to open the woman's night dress. Along with the other men he averted his eyes as Daenerys soaked the woman's, face, throat and chest in the cool water. The maester protested when he blocked a boy from tending the fire, but as he felt the pulse of the mark on his chest, he knew the task was done.

By midday they were in the air again, the dragons flying in close formation as they headed East; hoping to make it to the far shores of the Narrow Sea late tonight. And they did, spending the night in Volantis before flying the greater distance to Qarth, but it was dark as they soared wide of the harbor. It was blocked by their Navy they put a new plan into action, his wife set down with three of the dragons in the Red Waste; they did not want the dragons to be sighted. The last part of that plan was a little more challenging.

"Are you sure this will work?" His wife questioned uneasily.

"It needs to, we don't want their torches reflecting off her scales." With ash and water making a black mud he called Jahara to him, his dragon was not pleased with their goal.

But as they covered her in ash, hiding her glinting silver scales she became dark as night; no one would see them. The Unsullied had been here some time with the instruction to wait for their signal, tonight he would give the signal; tomorrow they would take Qarth from the warlocks.

"Come back quickly." She murmured, waiting with the other three as he wrapped himself in a winter fur and took hold of the sling.

Jorah nodded quickly and then urged Jahara to fly on, he did not wear his armor, carrying only his sword he headed for the sea. Circling above the fleet he found their flag ship and sliced through the flag; taking the soaring dragon with him as he continued to find the second part of the fleet. But already he saw torches being raised and he knew men would soon raise the alarm.

The flag of Valyria had come from the first design Daenerys had chosen for his breastplate, a bear ambling across the land with a dragon flying above; signifying the union of their houses. The removal of the dragon had special meaning to the second unit and the horses sensed the presence of the dragon as he approached.

Circling wide a few times he saw the second alarm going up and the call to raise the anchors. And Jorah headed back to the Red Waste to find is wife; they would move to the coast to wait for the Dothraki to make land.

His wife was relieved to see him return and Jorah took her hands; kissing her gently. "Once this is done, we go home."

"To the girls." She sighed, leaning into him and Jorah gladly held her.

Tugging her down to rest against the rocks, their furs from the North cushioning them from the sand. Jorah did not sleep that night, but he watched her rest, relieved that she slept soundly as the mark upon his chest danced in warning. They would face a battle of magic again tomorrow.

…

The dragons dove upon the gates as the horde approached, brandishing their weapons and screaming to fight. Branches of flame scorched the wall and the gates below. The stone melted in the heat as the force of the flames threw the heavy wooden doors open and set them alight.

Within the city an army raced to take formation and block the gates, but it would do little; the Unsullied already attacked the harbor as well. But she did not intend to waste the lives of her men, they would not fight the sorcerers' tricks for long.

It was something she had not considered years ago when she left Qarth, both the Thirteen and the self-proclaimed King dead. Clearly the Warlocks had claimed control at some point in the years that passed; finding ways to revive and strengthen their magic.

Suddenly Jorah's hands tightened painfully on her sides and then slipped away; she glanced back in time to see her husband tumbling from his seat behind her. He was limp, limbs loose as he fell and unaware of her screams.

It was his dragon that saved him, like a silver bullet Jahara dived, and pulled up sharply, claws outstretched to snatch his shoulder. Her claws clamped around the steel of his breast plate as she carried him high and clear of the city, Daenerys urged Drogon to follow.

She was scrambling down black scales as soon as her son made ground in desert beyond the city. Jahara had left a shallow scratch and red abrasion on his leg as she set him down, having hopped clear and turned to shelter him with her wings; Jorah was unaware of it all.

Fury like fire burned through her veins as she looked at her husband's glassy eyes. Beyond them the cries of the Dothraki racing into battle echoed, and she hears the near rhythmic sound of siege works opposing the Unsullied. They would face an impossible task unless the House of the Undying was destroyed; Bravos had taught them how to fight the Warlocks magic, but Jorah could not fight with her; and the look in his eyes, the lack of awareness terrified her. She remembered the magic a witch had worked upon another strong man; she had not understood it then.

But she hated the idea of leaving him here in a garden of bones for even a short time. Still her only hope was to burn the sorcerers and put an end to whatever curse they had woven, she was sure they had targeted him for a reason. Jorah did not just possess the guardian's magic; he was a skilled warrior and swordsman in his own right; still she remembered a warning she had been given in the North a long time ago. It was dangerous to be a dragon alone in the world.

Her best days, her greatest victories had come when he fought for her, when he fought with her. He was a strong steadying presence, should they destroy him would she be able to withstand the fire that lived within to build the world the dragons demanded? Or would she go the way of the dragons before her and leave the sorcerers to weave their magic of death?

Daenerys did not intend to find out, Jahara would not leave him and she knew the young dragon would do all she could to protect him, and so, turned back to Drogon. Climbing upon her son's back soared into the city, searching for that tower with no visible doors, trying to steady her anger into something she could use.

Rhaegal and Rhaellys fell in on either side of them, the smaller sapphire dragon stayed high as archers targeted them from the city walls and streets below; the arrows did little but irritate her older sons, their scales too hard for the small shafts to pierce. And the city had been preparing for an attack by sea she thought with some satisfaction; their heavy weapons were at the harbor and her men already within the walls.

She circled above the tower, once the sorcerers had attempted to chain her with her children within this place, today two of the dragons first put in chains here breathed fire upon the stone, blast after blast poured over the tower until it was melting to the steps on which it had been built. As she surveyed what she had done, hearing shouts of victory in the distance, she knew the army raised by spells had fallen, she caught sight of movement on the path; she recognized the shrunken head and dark robes.

Urging Drogon to turn the figure stopped and turned back to her, as anger flared within her the warlock reached up and began to pull down his own skin; revealing brown hair and the face of a young woman. Arya Stark.

Daenerys breathed a small sigh of relief and urged Drogon down, bravely the girl approached as she extended a hand and began to climb the dragon's wing.

"It is not over. Cersei was not there, some of the warlocks weren't there. They are somewhere else; they left this morning." Arya called as she shifted to sit behind her; looking somewhat uneasy on the dragon's back. "I followed them to an abandoned estate."

"Abandoned?" Something tightened within her. There might be an abandoned estate in Qarth, with an impenetrable vault, would they risk using it?

Should all the warlocks perish no one would be able to release those within the vault; but the question was could she get into it. As far as she knew it had been sealed a long time ago and the key destroyed. Or was it somewhere else entirely?

"Have you seen the place?" She questioned the girl.

Arya nodded and as Drogon rose back into the sky guided her deeper into the city and she breathed a sigh of relief when it was not the place she was thinking of. She could see nothing from the outside but as Drogon skimmed low over a wall Arya leapt from the dragon's back to somersault along the walkway and then appear in the courtyard below.

Daenerys could not give the command she intended and urged the dragons to land; she would have to follow the girl on foot. Thankfully several Dothraki had seen her and broke through the gate, the arakhs bloody as they flanked her. In a great circular chamber, they found them, Cersei Lannister with a cup in hand watched a Warlock chanting spells over a body; blood oozed from the belly onto an oddly shaped table. Only it was not made of wood or stone, it was a huge vertebra, it must have come from an ancient dragon for even Drogon's back wasn't nearly so broad.

The warlock turned on her and even as her warriors started forward clutched and died; as he crumbled, he turned towards the window. Arya Stark stepped through and as she faced the Lannister woman Daenerys stepped close to the table, stepping over the sorcerer; the girl had killed him cleanly.

She recognized the woman on the table, remembering the pang of jealousy she'd felt seeing her approach Jorah when Daenerys herself was heavy with his children. As she eyed Lynesse she heard the other woman die; and the girl's soft words; Arya had avenged her family.

It was harming her that had caused Jorah to fall and for a moment that confused her; she knew he did not care of what happened to the wife that had left him when he went into exile. Suddenly she heard a soft groan and realized the woman lived, drawing closer still she saw the woman had not been cut cleanly; but her belly sliced deep.

"Help me, please." Lynesse whispered, her voice weak, sensing Daenerys presence.

"How did you come to be here?" She asked quietly, the last they had seen her in Lys, the man she'd chosen had died opposing the new rule.

She saw the woman's gaze flicker over her and then recognition light in her glazed eyes; it might be blood loss or something else. "They promised me gold..."

Her eyes went to where Cersei Lannister had died, she knew where the gold would have come from; the question of why remained. Until she looked back to the cut, in her dreams she had seen many sacrificed to death; none had been cut like this.

"Did you lose his children? Or did you get rid of them?" She asked coldly, glancing down at her own hands; still covered in Jorah's blood. She thought of how pleased he had been to become a father, and she knew in part because it was an idea he had given up on.

"Does it matter?" The words were bitter, her hesitance to say an answer in and of itself.

"No." It was not out of any love Jorah bore this woman that had given her power over him; it was the babes he'd put inside her. Children she was sure he had never known of. "His blood will heal you. But you will never seek him out again, disappear into this world and stay away from me and mine, for if you find yourself in my presence again you will find no mercy."

It was dangerous to let Lynesse live and yet also to let her die in this manner when Jorah was so weak. Pouring out a jug of water she ran her fingers through the water, and then dipped cloths into it and pressed them to the wound.

"How was he to support a child?" The woman murmured, her hands coming to the rags as Daenerys cleanse the cut and eyed the cut across Lynesse's pelvis; she had lost a lot of blood. But she disagreed, Jorah had given up a great deal to try and please this woman, he would have moved the world for his child; she knew that more than this woman ever would; for she had seen him become a father. By her eyes and voice, she knew the woman was in some sort of trance; or just coming out of one.

She had to hope it would be enough, that his blood would heal her, and the sorcerer's death would break the curse; that Jorah had the strength to hold on. And she did not intend to tell him how Lynesse had been used to hurt him, it was someone with sight who had made the connection; she could not see such a secret being easily shared. But the woman would have no part of their future.

Turning from the room she eyed Arya. "Your family worries for you."

"I can go home now." The girl said her gaze drifting back the woman slumped on the floor.

"Is it all you had hoped it would be?" The girl had given up a lot to avenge her family; and risked her life many times over.

There was a long pause and just as she wondered if the girl regretted it Arya met her eyes. "It is done."

Daenerys nodded, she had a similar feeling, there was no joy in this, her only relief came in the fact it was over. And yet she knew her mission of vengeance would not end until blood magic was forgotten to the histories, just as the truth of dragons and guardians had been.

In the courtyard she found her troops, Grey Worm at the head of the formation, he told her that units were sweeping the city already. She ordered him to restore order, find space to gather the soldiers who surrendered; beyond the gate there was limited structural damage for the city. She needed to ascertain the leadership of the city and what would have to stabilize it. First, she needed to see to her husband, and crossed to where Drogon rested.

There was a group of Dothraki watching over him, though Jahara kept them a little way off; Jorah sat propped again the dragon's chest and shaded by her wing. He looked pale but as she approached, he tried to push himself up.

"Don't move." She ordered, closing the distance quickly and knelt to take his hand.

"Are you hurt?" He asked, his palm pressing to her cheek, drawing her close for a kiss. "Are you alright Daenerys?"

"I am fine. It is done, we will move you into the city to rest." She told him, eying the deep gash he had; if only he could heal himself as he could others. "We will see to the city and then we will go home."

She helped him to his feet and away from the dragon, a horse was found for him and a horse lord helped him mount. Daenerys mounted a second horse and they rode back into the city that they had once begged shelter from; privately she decided this city would never again have a gate they could bar against a traveler.


	45. Chapter 45

A week was spent in Qarth, a counsel was installed to represent the city, the man swore fealty to Daenerys and every street and corner was searched for warlocks. And it seemed the people of the city were glad to be rid of them, returning to a variety of Eastern faiths, he didn't understand them, but they gave the people comfort and hope; and did not require killing others.

Daenerys warned of the risks of turning to blood magic and of enslaving others from a perch upon Drogon's back; that her armies would rise against them once more. And he'd raided the surviving texts of magic and the histories of it for their own records as they made ready to leave.

Jorah was returning to the great holding they had based out of when he heard a voice from the shadows. "The mother of dragons has become fire herself and forged her champion of fire and flesh as the ancients did."

He knew that voice, he remembered it from long ago when it bore a different message; he found the masked woman leaning against a common near by. Her face covered in the ornate and brightly colored leather that hid her features; but he was certain it was the same woman.

"You have become her true friend, forever bound to the Dragon Queen and sealed to her mission. You know the Dragon must mount land and the sea, from East to West; the promise of ancient days knocks upon the door in this age. For death has been forced back and the winds of the grave frozen once more; peace must come upon the wings of cleansing fire."

"Let every man and woman believe as they will." He snarled, he'd no use for the suggestion the dragons be used to purify the nonbelievers.

Every city they visited, every man who saw the power of the dragons was testimony to the fact that the world must be varied and diverse. It took all kinds to build a city, to feed it and keep it moving forward, each had a role to play and concerns of their own to face each day. If fate willed it, man or woman would be moved to do it, he had been raised on the old gods the Dothraki upon Stallion and beliefs of the land while the slaves had prayed for the freedom of the grave. And they had been brought together, brought to fight a cause they had only begun to understand.

Unbelievers did not need cleansing; fire was not a religion and the believe in its power a dangerous thing; certainly, that was one thing the dragons had taught them. Remembered most for wars they had won with the flames that they breathed, few saw how intuitive they could be in a fight, how brave they would be to protect their own kind and the humans they bonded to. But they could also be gentle, as much as their size allowed, each with a distinct personality.

"They may believe as they will, but those who walk the earth today will be dust in the winds before the magic of death is forgotten. It is the dragons and the guardians who stand against time. You must remember these days, remember the old way or there will be no world for the sons of your sons." The masked woman instructed and then turned away.

Jorah frowned a moment and then continued into the holding, but as he walked through the ranks the woman's words rolled through his mind again; Kinvara had told them as much. Lives bound to the dragons could be long, many of these men were years younger than him and should live long after him; but if what they kept hearing was true and what the histories indicated he and Daenerys would live long past all of them. It was an unsettling thought, and as he eyed Grey Worm, the Commander a pace behind his wife as she crossed the courtyard, he though of the priestess' words; there were some he was not sure they could bear to lose.

Grey Worm and Missandei were like family, the woman his wife's closest friend, the world of man may not like the notion of a leader who would outlive generations of them; yet the stability might be what was needed to see real change. To see slavery and the dark arts truly lost, to change the way things were done. Good kings were celebrated and yet their reigns often short; the possibilities that lay before a good Queen who would reign for generations were vast. But in the days of opposition she would need comfort, perhaps friendship in a way that neither he nor their daughters could offer.

"We fly this afternoon. Do you think we can make it by morning?" Daenerys joined him; he saw her excitement at the prospect of home.

"Closer to midday." He corrected gently; he shared her desire to see their girls soon.

"The fleet will sail in the morning but for a unit who have agreed to garrison here until we have some assurances of the city's compliance." She headed up the steps as she spoke, and Jorah followed. "The girls will have grown so much while we've been away."

"We'll see them soon." He promised, there was a relief in the knowledge they would fly soon; this had been a long and trying journey.

...

They circled through the smoke of the sea around their home and she felt excitement thrum inside her. They had been gone too long and as Drogon aimed for the perch above their home the other dragons broke away, no doubt to reclaim their own lairs or fish.

She watched them go, and then looked back to her son's intended target; she knew the alert would have gone up already. They'd seen fishers waving out on the sea and the dragons flying together were hard to miss.

And as the dragon landed, she saw Missandei step onto the roof, Jorah's hands slid around her hips, easily turning her so she could dismount first. He had strapped their pack to his back and would follow carefully. Daenerys eagerly climbed down and went to embrace her friend.

"The girls are sleeping, I will let you wake them..." Missandei told her, lightly touching a long curl that had sprung free from her braid; she was not as neat as she might have been but they had flown through the night. Eagerly she went down to their room, pulling off her cloak and tossing it over the bed as she went; the girls still shared a cradle and her heart jumped a little as she saw them.

They had grown, and their hair was coming in a soft blonde, hatchlings had grown too; watching her from where they curled at their feet. It was Visenya who stirred first and eagerly Daenerys scooped her up and held her close. "Little one, mamma missed you."

She heard Jorah come up behind her and felt the warmth of his hand on her back before she watched the other rub lightly over their daughter's head. He bent over to kiss the top of Visenya's head and then reached into the cradle for their second child to hold her close.

A hot bath was brought up and they took turns washing, she told Missandei of their journey as her friend tackled the mess that was her hair. The Unsullied would have sailed by now but it would be some time before they made it back to Valyria. Jorah disappeared after a time; she knew he wouldn't be gone long; likely getting reports on what had happened in the time they were away.

Daenerys wanted to do little but sit with her babies, their hatchlings were now able to fly and there was no leaving them behind. She sat on the bed and Missandei perched on the edge as the girls and their hatchlings lay in front of her. They were so much bigger than they had been, eyes bright with curiosity, reaching for things and grabbing tight to her fingers; working hard to roll over or push up on little arms.

But the first days that they were home was full of discovering what the girls had learned and settling into a routine as a family once more. She enjoyed carrying her daughters along the walkways and between islands, going to the open-air market and speaking to the vendors. Valyria remained small though pilgrims made a steady journey to the temple platform they did not stay more than a few days. Long enough for merchants to do a quick trade, hear Kinvara's speeches and dip their hands into the guardian's pool. Valyria belonged to the freed, and their community was close knit; she wanted it to stay this way.

She frowned one morning as she saw her husband stepping out of a shop ahead of her; Jorah was not prone to visiting the market midday. And he disappeared before she could call out to him, but she said nothing to Missandei; she would ask him about it tonight.

Instead Daenerys turned her attention to the fabric her friend was holding up to Sainna's cheek, beautiful against her pale blue eyes; the woman eagerly offering to make dresses for her daughters. She nodded, happily handing the woman a few coins as they eyed her wares; they needed a color for Visenya's smoky coloring as well. The babies enjoyed the different textures, and the vendor cheerfully passed over a ring of cloth swatches for them to run little fingers over; cooing in delight at soft silks and coarse hides.

"They're so inquisitive." They'd been such little babes when she left them, now their personalities were even more distinctive. Their hatchlings watched contentedly from her shoulders; though Muirrean kept reaching towards Missandei who held Sainna.

…

Jorah toyed with the metalwork he held; it was jewelry of a sort; but he did wonder if he shouldn't have let his wife select the designs. Neither Missandei and Grey Worm were fancy or prone to wearing flashy jewels, so he'd selected fine silver arm bands, he'd not found a necklace design that seemed appropriate; he wanted nothing that remotely resembled a collar.

Grey Worm's was broader, while the second was delicate and both had dragon emblems worked in but in the right light there was a slight red tint to the metal. He took no chance of creating a jewel that could be removed, he'd considered it but Kinvara had warned him to forge them stronger than those of the past and so he'd watched the metal smith work.

And when the silver was molten, he'd added his blood, watching it worked into the metal itself and made into bands to sit against the skin. He lay them on his wife's dresser, he knew she was on the rooftop with all of the children; theirs and hers.

Jorah went up to spend the evening with his family, watching the girls crawl after their hatchlings, the grown dragons perched above to watch. Visenya fearlessly reached for the silver tip of Jahara's tail as she relaxed upon the wall. Nervously he held a stilling hand to his dragon, but Jahara ignored it, dipping her head to carefully inhale the baby's scent; Visenya used the dragon's scales to pull herself up to stand. As their daughter chattered her delight he did cross and lay a hand on the dragon's wing, ready to scoop up his brave little girl at a moment's notice should she lose her grip and tumble backwards.

"You're fussing." His wife laughed, watching happily from the bench.

"She's little to be taking a tumble." He murmured quietly. His wife's eyes only glinted with mischief, encouraging Sainna to use her hands to crawl rapidly across the floor; they grew more mobile every day.

Jorah spent the evening with his family, but sent Missandei home once the girls were tucked into bed. Ignoring his wife's protests as he nudged her towards her dressing table. From the dresser he took the parcel he'd had made and her brush; he was more than capable of doing a rough braid for her to sleep in.

"I had these made for Grey Worm and Missandei, they've the same magic in them as Kinvara's." He told her, carefully taking apart her braids and combing through the curls.

"They will extend a life." She murmured, turning each one in her hand.

"We've a long time to spend on this earth, and we need true friends; we may face many things in the wars to come." He thought of the shadow binder's warning; his dragon wife had a long way yet to go.

"Missandei and Grey Worm." She twisted to smile at him a little.

Jorah nodded, perhaps it was a selfish thing to do, but they would not force them upon their friends; nor would they keep their purpose a secret. Those two had stood with them through far too much for that.

"In the wars to come…"

"Jorah, we've just finished a war. I do not want to think of another just now." She sighed, cutting off his words as his fingers worked nimbly through her hair; he'd braided it into a thick rope many times before.

"We must." He dipped to kiss the top of her head; holding her steady. "We must, not because we want to, but because of our girls. Daenerys I will fight every day of my life if I must, if it will be one less battle they must face. If it will mean one less spear or sword will be thrown at my daughters I will fight, they will succeed you as Queens some day; some day when neither of us is here to protect them."

"You are a guardian." Her hands came to his arms and she leaned back into him silently; he knew she would agree.

"I am and bound forever to my Queen at that." He whispered back, bound to her and her mission; but on that he spoke only as a father.

"We will know peace some day. I will not set the world on fire for generations to see nothing come of it. The wheel will break, the dragons will bring peace." Daenerys twisted to meet his eyes and Jorah nodded; they would fight for a better world.


End file.
